


Perfect Symbiosis

by IViv



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, I like scientists with big eyes and I cannot lie, Learning from the loser couple, M/M, Planned fic, Slow Burn, Writing the content I want to read because desperate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IViv/pseuds/IViv
Summary: Carlton Drake and Riot are drawn to each other. Trouble is, neither of them knows what affection is. Following the destruction of the rocket, the pair becomes separated.This is the story about Riot finding his lost host. They learn to appreciate each other and heal as two halves of a whole.





	1. Ruin

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [完美共生](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213873) by [latelylate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latelylate/pseuds/latelylate)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is outlined and it's looking at 30k+. I aim to update frequently. Rest assured I have completed all of my posted works. 
> 
> Symbiote dialogue is in bold. 
> 
> Another huge thank you to my lovely beta [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/) for agreeing to take on this project too. You are a superstar.

Carlton Drake was used to the burden of command.

He was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, one of the most distinguished scientists of his time, and a visionary. It was his mission to preserve mankind. He’d discovered the symbiotes and brought them home for that very reason. Earth was on the brink of collapse. He alone possessed the knowledge and foresight for change. It was his duty to guide the misled.

All the above, however, did not apply to Riot.

Riot was a breed of his own. Ambitious, deadly, _beautiful_. Riot was a leader like him, but intricately designed. Riot was going to take Carlton back to his home world, and in exchange, Carlton had built him a rocket. Together, they were going to salvage the confused remnants of humanity. Together, they were going to perfect what the other lacked and reach heights previously undreamt of.

But fate had always been cruel to Carlton Drake. Carlton watched his creation combust into a raging inferno. Riot’s scream was too torturous to bear. Silver tendrils the colour of liquid mercury evaporated as the flames licked across their body. For the first time in his life, Carlton felt despair.

“Get inside me,” Carlton commanded. Heat was Riot’s weakness. A pang of anger pulsated across their connection. Carlton would apologise but they were losing precious seconds. Another explosion and Riot screamed again. “Riot, _please_.” Carlton knew it was not care for his wellbeing that prompted Riot to protect him. He was the only suitable host in the vicinity. If he were to die, Riot would be exposed to the flames. The naked symbiote would shrivel in an instant.

“Get inside me. I have a plan, trust me.” Carlton could feel the doubt from their link. He didn’t have time to dwell on the stiffness in his chest. Riot retreated into his body. The heat neared, and it was Carlton’s turn to scream at the flame’s caress. He bit the inside of his cheek to stay conscious and dragged his body toward the cylinders built to contain symbiotes.

To conserve space, Carlton had designed a dozen large cylinders, each made to transport hundreds of symbiotes at once. Oxygen was running low and he fought the urge to faint. Carlton manually unlocked one of the cylinders and climbed inside. He saw the latch click shut. Then the rocket exploded.

 

 

\----------

 

 

Carlton was exhausted when Riot dragged them ashore. Police sirens wailed in the distance. They needed to move. The flames had reduced Riot to the size of a basketball, not nearly enough to engulf Carlton. Carlton limped onto the road. It was late, but there was traffic. A car drove toward them. Carlton waved his good arm and shouted. The small vehicle didn’t slow down. Carlton quickly limped to the side.

 **Useless.** An angry voice spat in his head.

Carlton froze. He supposed that description wasn’t far from the truth. His plan to birth a new breed of lifeforms had failed. He’d fight tooth and nail to preserve the Life Foundation, but regardless of the outcome he’d never be allowed to explore space again. There was next to no one left by his side. He was badly injured. The flames that’d licked across the left half of his body had also singed his face. He must’ve made a terrifying sight. The wounds had scabbed, largely thanks to Riot, but the pain was so intense Carlton struggled to stay conscious. Now that they’d survived the fall, it would do Riot more harm than good to keep him as his host.

A strong urge for him to stop the car pulsated across the link. And then it hit him. Did Riot want another host? Was that why he wanted to stop the car so desperately? Aside from the obvious lack of synchronisation, there were other downsides to not achieving perfect symbiosis. He and Riot did not share each other’s thoughts. They had a connection, and strong emotions would travel across it, though aside from that, there was no way they could tell what the other was thinking.

Carlton didn’t know what came over him. Self-preservation had always been at the top of his list, but the thought of disappointing Riot, even in his last moments were unbearable. He forced himself to remain still. The car raced toward him. He was going to die. Carlton snapped his eyes shut. The pain never arrived. Tires screeched haphazardly. He caught a whiff of burnt rubber.

“You fucking nuts? I don’t want you in my car, piss off to the side or I’ll run you over!” Carlton opened his eyes. He couldn’t see past the blinding headlights well. The driver appeared to be in his thirties. Carlton limped to the driver’s seat. The man had rolled down his window and looked seconds away from punching him. Carlton stayed perfectly still. He awaited the inevitable. What would Riot do to him after he transferred to the new host? Probably eat him, just like the other hosts Riot had abandoned.

A flash of silver darted into the car. It silenced the man’s insults. Carlton clutched the edge of the door with white knuckles. A loud crunching noise snapped him from his trance. Carlton looked at the man again. He was missing half of his head. A silver pile of goo munched away.

A silver pile of goo that was still connected to him.

 **Drake, what are you waiting for? Drive.** Riot said inside his head.

“Oh.” Carlton blinked. There was dust in his eyes. “Yes, of course.” It took him all his might and then some to roll the man’s corpse to the side. The wounds that’d scabbed were bleeding again.

He probably shouldn’t return to the city, not while SFPD was looking for him, but he had nowhere else to go. Carlton drove back to San Francisco. He parked inside a safehouse in one of the poorer neighbourhoods.

Eddie Brock’s accusations had been one hundred percent correct, though the man gave him more credit than he deserved when it came to shady connections. Carlton Drake was a scientist. Everything he did, sabotaging Brock’s career, recruiting the weak minded as test subjects, even homicide was in the name of science. He needed to succeed. Human beings had such poor design. He had eighty years to complete his mission. He must preserve his race before humanity ran itself to the ground.

Carlton Drake wasn’t a criminal, though in this moment, he wished he was.

His left leg and arm were numb from pain. Too weak to exit the car, Carlton powered off the engines and sank into the foul-smelling seat. He looked to the side. The man’s corpse was reduced to a bloodstain on the upholstery. Riot hummed in contentment. The flowing ball of silver tendrils noticed Carlton’s gaze and morphed into the symbiote’s head. Carlton sent a weak plea across their link. His call for help was met with annoyance, but eventually, Riot dissolved back into him and Carlton could move again.

“Thank you,” Carlton whispered.

**Humph.**

He unlocked the door, passed the retinal scan, then found the supply room. Rows of briefcases lined the walls, some with money, some with passports. A small selection of firearm was available, but he had no use for them. Treece was dead. Carlton had terrible aim.

“You know where food is.” Carlton gestured to the fridge. After meeting Riot, he had every saferoom stocked with vacuum sealed meat. Carlton thanked his foresight.

**I need another rocket.**

Carlton swallowed at the symbiote’s demand. He didn’t know how to explain human politics to Riot. He could lie, placate Riot for the time being despite knowing it’d never happen. It was his default approach to board meetings. Yes, we are close to finding a cure. Yes, there are potential for military applications. Yes, the product would be marketable and lucrative. But none of that mattered now. So why lie?

“There won’t be another one. I’m sorry,” Carlton whispered.

 **Drake.** Riot materialised. His form had grown slightly bigger. A sharp, silver tendril pressed against Carlton’s neck. **Are you denying me, my vessel? We had a deal.**

Carlton clenched his teeth. “Yes, but our plan failed. I don’t have the means to try again. I don’t know how much footage has gotten out. We need to stay hidden until—”

 **Our plan failed because of _you_. You are the one who needs to hide**.

Riot’s words slithered into Carlton’s ribcage and tore apart his bleeding heart. He’d piled all his resources into this project, burned more contacts than he’d like to admit. The rocket’s design was flawless. If it wasn’t for Brock and Venom’s meddling, he would’ve succeeded. He was going to send humanity across the galaxy. But now, all his aspirations, his life’s work…

Gone.

“You ungrateful parasite. After everything I’ve done for you—” The edge that’d been pressed against his skin turned into a claw. It wrapped around Carlton’s neck and squeezed. Blood rushed into his eyes. Under the pressure, oxygen wouldn’t enter or leave his lungs.

**Watch your tongue, insect. I can end your life in a second.**

Riot released his grasp. Carlton fell to the floor in a wheezing heap. He wasn’t behaving like himself, not at all, because like how he’d refused to move from the car’s path, Carlton cranked his neck up and looked Riot in the eyes. “That sounds awfully like what you promised Brock and Venom. How are they now?”

Riot let out a deafening screech. **I’ll kill you, human! Find another meat sack! I could have won! Could have swallowed them whole if you weren’t so weak!**

“What do you mean?” Carlton regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth.

Riot looked down on him with contempt. **You know, human. You desire it too. Perfect symbiosis.** Their bond had been short, but Riot knew how to strike a stinging blow.

**I should have found a host like Brock.**

Carlton blinked again. The dust in his eyes refused to budge. There was an empty hole in his chest. Somehow, out of all the injuries he’d sustained today, that comment had hurt the most. He snapped his jaw shut. He might have no one left by his side, but he could still command himself. He wiped all traces of pain from his face. His features settled into a familiar mask.

Without Riot sustaining him, Carlton was weak. He pressed his back against the wall to catch his breath. He wouldn’t ask Riot for help. No. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Carlton climbed to his feet, ignoring the pain that made him wish he’d gone up with the rocket. He limped to the windowless bedroom and stripped off his tattered suit. He should treat his wounds. The first-aid kit was in the bathroom.

Carlton had planned to take a shower. As it turned out, human resolve could only carry one so far. He took another step forward, then passed out on the floor.

 

 

\----------

 

 

Carlton woke in the darkness, cold, confused, and alone.

He glanced toward the clock: 3:45 a.m. He’d been asleep for four hours. He needed more rest, but his strained nerves wouldn’t give it to him. The events of the past day came rushing back. He was on the bed. How did he get there? _Riot?_ Carlton called as he wrapped the covers around his naked form. That was when he realised their link was gone. _R-Riot?_ He tried again. No response. No link.

Carlton sprung from the bed, wincing as his wounds sent sharp stabs of pain shooting through his body. He limped to the supply room. The fridge was open, but the food was untouched.

Did Riot not like the taste of vacuum-sealed meat? Carlton didn’t know. Before this day, all the game presented to his symbiote had been fresh kills. Carlton told himself to breathe. Riot was probably out hunting. He wouldn’t abandon him, not without a word.

But they had an argument. Riot could’ve realised Carlton lacked the means to send him home. That’d explain why he hadn’t switched hosts after the incident. He’d assumed that Carlton would try again.

No. Riot wouldn’t leave like this. He’d want to have the last word.

Carlton argued back and forth in his head. After getting nowhere, he went back to bed. He pulled the covers over his head and tried to fall asleep. When he opened his eyes again Riot would be back. He repeated that over and over. It quickly became stuffy under the covers. Carlton came up for air. The clock read 4.09 a.m.

It had been his plan to go to sleep. Instead, he watched the numbers flick one by one. Night became dawn, and dawn became noon. It occurred to him that Riot did have the last word.

**_I should have found a host like Brock._ **

Carlton climbed out of bed. He hadn’t bothered to change into sleepwear, which made stripping easier. He let his boxers slide onto the tiles and stepped under the shower. The freezing water irritated his wounds. That must be the reason salty liquid flowed from his eyes.

Carlton doubled over and let out a choked sob. He clasped a hand over his mouth. Carlton Drake was used to the burden of command. Carlton Drake was going to lead humanity to salvation. Carlton Drake didn’t cry in the shower after his symbiote had abandoned him.

And yet he stayed there, under the running water with his hand over his mouth, unable to scream, and unable to move on. Eventually his breathing calmed. Carlton cursed his foolishness. Of course Riot left. Finding better hosts were in his nature. Carlton had allowed himself to get attached.

He towelled himself dry and approached the mirror. The man staring back was a shell of his former self. Purplish dark circles surrounded his eyes. The left half of his body was a mixture of blood and semi-healed burns. An angry red welt extended from his hairline to his cheekbone. He should be thankful it hadn’t taken out his eye. A black bruise covered his neck in the shape of a claw. The sight alone squeezed the air back out of his lungs. Carlton tore his eyes away from his reflection. He washed his hands and retrieved the first-aid kit. With Riot gone, he couldn’t afford to have an infection.

Carlton dressed his wounds with clinical precision. He’d wanted to become a surgeon once. Drunk on the naivety of youth, surgeons had seemed like a noble profession. He’d save lives, provide aid to those in need. Then he got older, and he realised that he could work himself to the bone and never save them all. He took up cancer research next. It would aid humanity on a broader scale.

In some sense he did fulfil his childhood dream. The Life Foundation boasted three successful research centres. One of them was dedicated to cancer. Perhaps they’d make a breakthrough in another decade. It was a centre Carlton didn’t frequent. During the process of reaching his goal, he’d come to an unsettling conclusion.

Humanity itself was the disease.

What could he do, when he, himself, was the thing he sought to eliminate?

Carlton gave up on finding a cure. He poured all his funding into space exploration, hoping to discover another planet, another haven for humans to infest when Earth bled dry. What he found, instead, were symbiotes.

Carlton snapped the first-aid box shut. He limped to the closet and picked out the best outfit inside. He gingerly slid his arms into the crisp white shirt. His fingers threaded the tie into a Windsor knot like second nature. Carlton covered the bruise on his neck as best as he could. He went through the mangled heap that was yesterday’s outfit. His brows shot up when he saw his favourite card holder had survived the blast.

Carlton let out the first genuine smile since those kids had toured his company earlier in the week. The card holder was a gift from his mother before she passed away. It was made from supple deer leather, singed on the corner, just like he was.

He took a bundle of cash from one of the briefcases. He was in no shape to drive. It’d be embarrassing if he couldn’t pay for the cab because his assets got frozen. Without Riot, he didn’t have to run. He had nowhere to run. For better or worse, he’d return to headquarters and brave the storm. The Life Foundation was his pride and joy. He’d never let it sink alone.

Carlton locked the front gate and limped onto the alley way. He’d expected hostile looks from pedestrians now that his face was probably all over the news. What he hadn’t expected, was a blow to the back of his head. He fell to the ground. A rag covered his nose, and he inhaled the strange scent. It whispered temptations of darkness. The last thing he felt was a group of men carrying him into the back of a van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments will be treasured. Writing is a lonely process. Comments really help keep the momentum going. 
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	2. Host

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

Hunting took longer than Riot expected.

Drake, with his feeble human form had passed out on the floor. Riot had contemplated leaving him there, but after some thought, he carried Drake onto the bed because it’d be troublesome if his host’s condition worsened.

Drake was in no shape to hunt, so Riot slid out the air vent alone. Meat was acceptable, but considering recent events, Riot preferred better sustenance. He snatched the body of the first human he encountered, a middle-aged woman who took one look at Riot and screamed. The noise was silenced when Riot erased her consciousness. The woman’s body rejected his presence. Riot snorted and commanded the meat sack to move. It wobbled forward on twiggy legs.

Riot would never admit it, but he already missed Drake. Drake was special. Not only in the sense his body was compatible to Riot, but also in the way he thought. Drake had been the only human, host or no, who’d felt happy to see Riot. The joy that’d flowed across their link when they first bonded had been infectious.

Drake was a strange, frail creature.

Riot began digesting the woman’s organs at the thought of Drake’s burnt body. Whether he liked it or not, Drake was the reason they were both alive. It hacked a large chunk from Riot’s pride, but he swallowed the insult of being saved by a human. Riot was a vicious predator, but he appreciated wit. Rocket or no, Drake was the best option he’d come across to date. Riot needed energy to heal his host.

The meat sack wobbled into an alley. A row of dumpsters lined the cracked brick wall. The formation was occasionally interrupted by the back doors of shady establishments. During the brief time they’d bonded, Drake had shown Riot a documentary of humanity. It was a race of lost fools.

Riot spotted a drunkard passed out behind the bins. He tucked in. The man had a poisoned liver and blackened lungs. Despite the foul appearance, Riot ate every chunk because he was in no shape to be picky. Drake, the pesky human had dared to disobey him. Riot mused as he sucked the brain of the drunkard dry. He liked prey with bite. Perhaps he wouldn’t heal Drake straight away. Riot had claimed Drake as his vessel, but between the two of them, there was only one being in charge. Riot wanted to see Drake lower that pretty head of his.

A loud clang disturbed Riot’s meal. A group of brightly dressed humans stumbled into the alleyway. They screamed, and Riot was forced to silence them. Now he had four extra bodies to deal with. Riot had been content with the organs of the drunkard. Considering that the fire had incinerated three-quarters of his body, his digestion wasn’t as fast or as efficient as it used to be. Given enough food, his cells would divide rapidly. It’d take less than a week for him to regain peak condition, but during this recovery period, he needed to eat less and more often.

Riot regarded the bleeding bodies. Then again, who was he to waste food? On his home planet clans of symbiotes would battle to the death for sustenance like this. The younger humans looked healthier than the drunkard too. It didn’t take Riot long to make up his mind. He dragged the bodies deeper into the shadows. The sun was high in the sky when he wobbled back onto the street.

Having overate, Riot’s footsteps were sluggish. He attracted plenty of odd stares, but humans tended to judge silently. No one stopped him. It took Riot twice as long to return to the safe house. He let his meat sack fall to the ground then entered the building through the same air vent. To his disbelief, Drake was nowhere to be found. Drake’s mind could calculate complex flight paths, make astute observations, and multitask better than any other human Riot had seen. Riot refused to believe Drake didn’t know he went hunting.

His host had abandoned him.

Riot hovered above the empty mattress. His bubbling mass was a good indication of his mood. A silver blade materialised in thin air. Its tip pierced the ceiling, sliced the bed in half, then sank into the concrete floor. No one betrayed Riot and lived to tell the tale. Riot was going to find Drake then crack open his skull. Though he wouldn’t kill him, not until he found someone better.

He slithered through the safehouse, gravitating toward the source of the coppery tang. Drake had cleaned his wounds. Riot coiled above the blood-soaked bandages. They were fresh. Drake couldn’t have gotten far. Riot slithered back outside. His previous meat sack was beginning to decay. Riot contemplated on snatching another human, but a bark caught his attention. Riot believed the noisy vermin was called a ‘dog’.

Since it was a temporary vessel, Riot had no qualms with inhabiting a lesser creature. He was pleasantly surprised when his sense of smell sharpened. Riot made use of the discovery and circled the safehouse. He tracked Drake’s scent halfway down the alley. It stopped abruptly.

Riot inspected the piss stained walls. His fury was replaced by a nagging suspicion. He trusted his instinct. It’d saved him countless times on his home world. Symbiotes were a breed of depraved opportunists. They would do anything to survive, including eating their young. If he didn’t have a keen sense of danger, he would’ve never survived to adulthood. Riot doubled up and down the alley. The dog’s nose guided him to an object. It was a small brown rectangle. Drake had said it contained the secrets to his influence.

Riot picked up the rectangle with a silver tendril. Drake hadn’t dropped this on his way in, of that, Riot was certain. It was abandoned—no, _lost_ recently, but Drake was meticulous by nature. The brown rectangle and his communication device never left his side. He wouldn’t have dropped it by accident. Riot latched onto a human male and made way for the headquarters of the Life Foundation. If Drake had left willingly, that was where he’d go. Riot switched bodies again after he arrived. To the guard’s knowledge, Drake hadn’t returned.

He wobbled up to Drake’s office. It had been sealed by the police. Riot ripped apart the yellow tape and stepped inside. Nothing had been moved. He approached Drake’s desk. It was stationed in front of a plane of floor-to-ceiling glass, with an elevated view of the research departments. The humans below scrabbled at each other like a pack of leaderless mutts. Annoyance flared in Riot’s chest at the sight of disorder. The body he inhabited was rejecting his presence. He would give this meat sack ten hours at most.

It was night when Riot left the Life Foundation. He began with the obvious. Despite his limited experiences with human technology, he was a fast learner. He kept the guard’s handset and entered the local police station. Drake had explained the concept of a surveillance system to him. Riot left his meat sack outside and slithered in using his symbiote form. Keeping to the shadows, Riot carefully avoided the cameras and approached the napping policeman. Silver tendrils infused into the man’s bare ankle.

Riot supressed his bloodlust as the balding man rejected him like his previous slew of failed hosts. It was their honour to be his vessel, yet their last thoughts were always one of horror or disgust. Riot tolerated the man’s incessant screams long enough to browse his memories. He erased the man’s consciousness when he found nothing useful. With his fresh meat sack, Riot stumbled toward the station’s computer. He logged on using the man’s password and searched the system for signs of Drake.

That was…odd. His host hadn’t been arrested. The policeman’s stubby fingers tapped away. He opened what little information the authorities had on Drake. Drake’s current whereabouts were marked unknown. Riot left the police station. He parked his meat sack around the corner, out of the sight of any cameras.

What should he do now? Feeding could wait. The nutrients from his morning feast would sustain him for the rest of the day. Riot sensed his meat sack was tired, but symbiotes didn’t need rest. He could switch vessels when this one expired.

Riot stumbled onto the street. Where would he go? He should find another scientist, or a billionaire with funds to build him another rocket. He walked in a straight line until he reached the shore. Aimless, Riot commanded his meat sack to keep moving. The policeman wobbled into the water and began to swim. Before Riot knew it, he’d climbed out of the water, up the hills, and flipped over a familiar fence.

The Life Foundation was quiet at night. Most of the workers had left. A handful of guards patrolled the property. “Hey, what are you doing?” One of them noticed Riot. He shined a torch in Riot’s face. “Are you…alright man?” The guard’s eyes shifted from the policeman’s dripping uniform to his empty gaze. His hands shifted to his pistol. “I need you to turn around and put your hands where I can see them.”

Riot smiled. He pulled the decaying flesh on the policeman’s face into a grin that matched his own. Riot slowly withdrew from his meat sack. His symbiote form materialised in the air. The guard shook like a brittle leaf. His features were twisted with unsuppressed horror. Silver tendrils erupted from the policeman’s chest. It crept upward until it swallowed him whole. A fresh face replaced his stoned expression. Riot opened his jaw. His salivating tongue radiated heat in the brisk night air.

The guard screamed. He was decapitated with a swing of Riot’s arm. Riot caught the flying head and bit down, cracking it open with a loud crunch. How were they so different? Humans… It was difficult to describe the emotion that coursed through Riot’s chest, so he didn’t dwell on them.

_‘Look around at the world…what do you see? A planet at the brink of collapse. Human begins are disposable. But man and symbiote combined… This is a new race. A new species. A higher lifeform.’_

Drake’s words were crisp in Riot’s ear. He didn’t think like any other human. No symbiote had thought like Riot either. His brethren couldn’t tear their eyes off a meal if the solution to their crisis slapped them in the face. He and his host had stood on the precipice of change. They’d peered down on the lost fools below with contempt only those gifted with foresight could understand.

Riot consumed the remainder of the guard with a savage grin. He could see his path now. Drake’s body may be weak, but his mind was not. Riot had travelled half way around Earth to bond with him. He’d taken a single look at Drake, and his intuition had told him he was the one. Drake was a man with vision, and the only human worthy of being Riot’s host. Riot would take him back, then he’d find those foolish enough to abduct Drake.

Riot would find them.

He’d make them beg for a clean death.

 

 

\----------

 

 

Carlton couldn’t open his eyes. It was as if someone had stitched his lids shut. He let out a pained grunt. The back of his head throbbed to a wicked beat. It could be worse, considering he’d been struck with a blunt object. Carlton parted his eyes with tremendous effort. It took a while for him to realise the lights weren’t spinning.

Carlton had been kidnapped before. He knew the logistics and understood the procedure. There were two kinds of kidnappers, the ones who wanted something from him, and the ones who wanted to do something to him. Carlton hoped with what little optimism he had left that the men who took him were the former.

He had been stripped naked and strapped to a metal chair. The kidnappers had redressed his wounds, Carlton noted as the smell of fresh antiseptic drifted into his nostrils. That was a good sign. His captors didn’t want him dead, at least not yet. Carlton looked to the side. A man with wire-rimmed glasses observed him with dispassionate eyes. Carlton opened his mouth to speak but coughed out bloody saliva instead. “What do you want from me?” he asked between coughing fits.

“Where is it?” The man asked back. Carlton knew there was only one thing he could be referring to.

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. Drake…” The man shook his head. “From one scientist to another, I hope you cooperate.” He stood and padded over to Carlton. The man lowered until his head until his breath tickled Carlton’s face. It carried an uncomfortable warmth. “Where is the symbiote?”

“I don’t know. ” If the roles had been switched, Carlton wouldn’t have believed himself, but he was telling the truth. The man was asking for specifics. He didn’t know Riot’s exact whereabouts. He had a vague idea of where Riot could be, but he hadn’t seen Riot since the night of the explosion. “It left, surely you can see that.”

The man straightened. Carlton knew that look too well. Those were the features he’d seen reflected from the glass, when he was standing in his lab, observing his test subjects. The man retrieved a handset from his pocket. “He wouldn’t talk,” he said as he pressed down the communication button.

“As expected,” a gravelly voice drawled. “Make him.”

“Yes, Sir.” The man pocketed the handset. He walked past Carlton, who craned his neck, but couldn’t see what the man was doing behind his back. An unnerving moment of quietness passed, then came the sound of metal scraping against each other. The man returned with a syringe.

“You are making a mistake. I don’t know where he is.” Carlton said as he tugged against his restraints. “Whatever it is you want, as long as it’s in my power, we can come to an arrangement.”

The man tapped the syringe to dispose of any air bubbles. Another man entered the room. He pulled Carlton’s hair back painfully, exposing the veins on his neck and locking him in place. Carlton screamed as the needle punctured his skin. Cold liquid rushed into his bloodstream with a familiar burn.

“Hail Hydra.” The men chanted in unison.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely people who had commented on the previous chapter. Let me know what you guys think about this one! ;D
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	3. Menace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play True Detective with Eddie and Venom. 
> 
> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

Eddie threw the jumbo pack of discounted M&M’s into the basket. The chocolate beads collided against each other then flattened inside the plastic packaging. **We want that one.**  Eddie’s head turned involuntarily to the side. Before him was a stand of Ferrero Rocher. Hundreds of tiny balls stood proud in acrylic display cases, individually wrapped with golden foil.

“No, man, I’m not getting paid until next week, and rent’s due,” Eddie whispered.

**But that one is delicious.**

Eddie sighed. He ignored the man who snatched a box of chocolate while avoiding eye contact with him. He’d been getting a lot of those lately, crazy stares from strangers. Eddie had long run out of fucks to give. “Should’ve never given you the good stuff.” That was a lie, because technically Eddie had bought the Ferrero Rochers for himself. Venom just happened to share his tastebuds. He turned and walked away from the stand.

**Eddie...**

Eddie strolled along the aisle. He fished out the crumpled shopping list from his back pocket.

  * Chocolate
  * Detergent
  * Tater Tots
  * Icy Poles
  * Ketchup
  * Lettuce



**Eddieeeee...**

Eddie came to a stop. He looked to the dusty ceiling and wondered how this became his life. Eddie doubled back to the stand. Did the employees place the stand under the spotlight on purpose? The golden balls were bloody blinding. Eddie picked up a medium sized box and chucked it in the basket. Detergent could wait until next week. It wasn’t like he did dishes anyway.

**Thank you.**

Eddie huffed and shook his head. He wanted to be mad at Venom, but the corners of his mouth had a mind of their own. They curled up until his cheeks ached from the grin. He missed Venom. It’d been a week since the rocket went up in flames, and less than forty-eight hours since they were reunited. “I thought you were dead. Don’t do that again.” Eddie didn’t have to explain the tangled mess of emotions that he couldn’t place a finger on himself. Venom understood.

 **We will always be together. Nothing can keep us apart**.

Eddie indulged in the feeling of comfort that radiated from their bond. It was only after he experienced intimacy like this that he realised how unbearable loneliness was. Eddie grabbed the rest of the items on his list and checked out. Not even his empty wallet could dampen his mood. The nights of San Francisco were chilly. Eddie pulled his grubby jacket closer. Night walks were good for organising thoughts. Since he exposed Carlton Drake and cleared his name, he was beginning to get the odd job again. He’d finished investigating a crooked restaurant chain this morning. He didn’t want to sign with another news agency, so hopefully after the story went live, he’d gain enough traction to maintain a freelance career.

**Eddie, don’t move.**

Eddie’s legs froze before he could register Venom’s instruction. He looked down the path. It was close to midnight. A stoned looking man peered at him through a curtain of greasy hair. There was dried wine, or what Eddied hoped was dried wine running down the front of his shirt. His jeans were ripped near the crotch like he’d taken one wide step too many. Below that were sneakers caked with mud. Everything about the man felt off, but what unsettled Eddie the most were his eyes.

The bloodshot orbs regarded him with unnerving intensity. They didn’t give off a glassy sheen like most addicts. The man’s head shifted to the side as if he was contemplating which part of Eddie was the tastiest. No. Eddie’s heart hammered in his chest. It couldn’t be.

 **“Venom.”** A voice too deep to be human rumbled from the man’s throat. His mouth pulled into a grin that was too wide for his face.

 **“Riot,”** Venom said.

“What? I thought he was dead.” Eddie surveyed the man—no—symbiote with renewed caution. The paleness of his face wasn’t natural. Riot had definitely killed his host. “You said there was no way he could’ve survived the fire,” Eddie whispered to Venom.

 **“Not exposed.”** Venom had taken over control over Eddie’s body. He hadn’t transformed into symbiote form, but Eddie could feel the black bubbling mass ready to erupt at any second. **“He is as strong as he was before the explosion… No, perhaps stronger. He is well fed.”**

“Hey!” Eddie had had a strong word with Venom about his diet and he wasn’t about to back down, but this wasn’t the time for bickering. Riot’s current host was built like a professional boxer, with wide shoulders and biceps that could dent steel. If the man had been alive, he’d be the type that Eddie avoided in dark alleys.

Great. Now both he and Venom were overpowered. Didn’t Venom say Riot was a pack leader? Back on the launchpad the only thing that’d given them an edge were Carlton Drake’s non-existent muscles. They were so fucked.

 **“What do you want?”** Venom hissed. Considering what they’d done, it was a good sign that Riot hadn’t opened their conversation with a sucker punch. Riot snarled. He regarded them with blatant disgust but wouldn’t answer the question. When he finally opened his mouth, only a single word came out.

**“Aid.”**

“What?” Eddie could feel Venom’s surprise too.

**“Drake is missing.”**

Eddie had thought he heard the last of that name, but no, the psychopathic twink continued to haunt him. “Missing—how is he missing? Like arrested missing or _missing_ missing.” Eddie took in the ominous gleam in Riot’s eyes. The symbiote was furious, but what for? “Oh.” Venom relinquished control of his body. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “You sure he didn’t just, you know, decide to fly overseas and lay low?”

 **“His company is on the verge of collapse. He hasn’t returned to any of his properties. The police don’t know his location.”** Riot closed the distance between them. Eddie tensed up again.

“You sure, uh, did your research.” Eddie cleared his throat. “Look, Riot, I know this is a predicament for you, but frankly I don’t see how it’s any of my business. Drake got what he deserved. Plus, even if his company goes up in flames the guy is still loaded. His version of prison will be a seaside villa with a private beach. Now if you excuse us, I’d love to go home and get a snack in before bed.” Eddie took a cautious step sideways. Venom froze him in place. Eddie tugged at his limbs, but they wouldn’t budge. Unease flowed across their link. Venom knew Riot. The conversation was far from over.

 **“Tell me, Brock. On the night of the explosion, who was in the control room?”** The feral grin returned to Riot’s face. He padded closer. The tongue that slithered out of his mouth wasn’t entirely human. **“I retrieved the footage. The woman, she lives in a nice house, with a nice man.”**

“You son of a bitch, don’t you dare—” An animalistic screech muted the second half of Eddie’s sentence.

 **“Eddie Brock, my host is missing, and you will find him for me.”** Silver goo erupted from the man’s eyes. They formed tiny tendrils that flicked upward, resembling Riot’s eyes. His teeth elongated into pointed fangs. **“Give me Drake, and I will leave you and your friends to continue your meaningless, pitiful lives. Or I will eat everyone you know, starting with that woman who dared to foil my plan.”**

Venom chose that moment to show himself. He coated Eddie with goo and screeched back. The sound was deafening in the silence of the night. “Jesus!” Eddie yelped. They were in the middle of the street. Thank god it was late and no one was around.

Eddie tried to supress his anger. He needed to think logically. He and Venom were no match against Riot in his prime. Fighting wasn’t an option, but could they give Riot what he wanted? The symbiote’s request wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Compared to what he’d been up to previously, it wasn’t even evil. His host was missing, and Riot wanted to find him. The act showcased more humility than Eddie gave him credit for.

When he thought about it in more detail, it actually wasn’t a bad idea to pair Riot up with Drake again. Eddie wasn’t exaggerating with the seaside villa, but Drake had botched two space missions in a row. There was no way he’d be allowed to continue space exploration. And no rocket meant no ticket back home. Plus, even if Drake disappeared forever, who was there to stop Riot from finding another billionaire host?

“If, and this is a big if.” Eddie looked around again to make sure no one saw the two symbiotes hissing at each other. “If I find him for you, will you promise to stop trying to invade Earth?”

 **“No,”** Riot deadpanned.

“Oh, come on. Give me something to work with.” Eddie shifted uncomfortably. His leg brushed against his groceries. He hoped his icy poles weren’t melting.

 **“Two years,”** Venom said out of the blue.

“What?” Eddie turned to Venom, who’d formed a small symbiote head hovering beside his own.

 **“You will not try to contact our home world for two years, and you will leave us alone after we find him for you. These are our conditions. Riot, we ask for your word,”** Venom said.

Eddie turned back to Riot. He was considering Venom’s offer. Eddie supposed it took a symbiote to understand one. The effect of allocating a specific timeframe was immediate. Riot shrunk back into his host. The man opened his mouth. “Wait wait wait wait.” Eddie extended his free arm. “And add this to the list, don’t kill anyone for two years. Bad guys are an exception. This is the diet Venom is on: chocolate, Tater Tots, and bad guys.” Riot narrowed his eyes. “A trail of corpses looks bad, just sayin’,” Eddie added.

A low rumble vibrated from the man’s throat. It was a predator’s growl. Had Eddie pushed too far with the third condition? The first two were minor setbacks. Riot might have a fiery passion for Eddie and Venom for nearly roasting him alive, but leaving them alone wouldn’t cost him anything. And realistically speaking, if Riot tried to contact his species again then all bets were off anyway. Eddie’s condition, however, limited his nutrition intake. For a pack leader like Riot, Eddie might as well have asked him to go vegetarian.

The rumble deepened. Eddie didn’t back down. If he and Riot were going to co-exist then they had to meet halfway. Eating bad people were Eddie’s bottom line.

 **“Deal,”** Riot said after a lengthy pause.

Eddie clamped his dropping jaw shut. He hadn’t expected Riot to make any kind of sacrifices for Drake. His attitude toward humans made it clear that he couldn’t care less for his hosts. Perhaps Eddie should reconsider his relationship with Drake, but that was a job for another day.

“Great. I’d shake you on it, but look I really have to get going, so uh, have a nice night.” Eddie sidestepped Riot with an awkward shuffle. This time Venom didn’t stop him.

Well, that went better than expected. Eddie took a couple of deep breaths and trekked down the road with his groceries. Pumped with adrenalin from the confrontation, he was no longer cold. Eddie powered down the street, eager to escape Riot with his freakish glare. He looked over his shoulder. Riot was hadn’t budged from his spot. He watched Eddie bolt down the sidewalk with unblinking eyes. _Creeeeeeepy…_

Eddie hastily veered onto another street. Now to solve the problem of where on Earth he was going to find Drake. Eddie didn’t know how long Riot planned to give him, but the sooner he tied Drake up with a fancy bowtie, the sooner he could be rid of Riot.

 **Eddie, there’s something you should know.** Venom said in his head.

“Shhh…I’m thinking.” Eddie ran through a list of people and places. He could hit up his usual sources, see what the word was around town, but Eddie had a hunch that he was beating a dead horse. His sources knew his run-ins with Drake. If they had any juice on the man they’d have buzzed Eddie on their own accord. That left him with snooping around places he shouldn’t be. “Dammit. Should’ve asked him…”

**“Ask what?”**

Eddie yelped. He whipped around. Standing behind him, an inch from his face, was Riot. “What the hell is wrong with you? I thought we had a deal!” He turned to Venom. “Why didn’t you say something?”

 **“I did.”** This whole symbiote business was bad for his mental health. Not that he had mental stability to begin with, but his life expectancy was plunging by the second.

 **“What do you need to know?”** Riot asked without any concept of personal space.

Eddie took a step back and barricaded himself with his groceries. “Where did you last see him? What was he wearing? Did he mention he was going somewhere…or?”

 **“Drake was hurt.”** Eddie gulped under the intensity of Riot’s glare. **“I went hunting. Took longer than expected. When I returned, he was gone.”** Riot looked away. Eddie gave the symbiote time to collect his thoughts. **“I’ve searched all the places he could go. I don’t know what he wore, but he dropped this.”** Riot retrieved a burnt cardholder from his jean pocket. Eddie opened it. It contained Drake’s ID, an impressive array of bank cards, and a photo of Drake when he was young. He was in the arms of a woman that had his eyes. Eddie plucked the photo from its slot. He inspected the worn edges then turned it over. On the back was a line of elegant script. 

 _It is not length of life, but depth of life_.

“You said he dropped it, like lost it? Or threw it away?” Eddie carefully returned the photo to its slot.

**“Lost.”**

“You sure?”

**“Yes.”**

If that wasn’t Drake’s mother then Eddie’s years in journalism had been wasted. He searched up Drake’s family on his phone. The man’s parents divorced when he was an infant. His mother raised him alone, then died of lung cancer when he was twelve. During Eddie’s time out on the streets, he’d seen people throw away all sorts of weird shit, but never photos. And especially not photos of their dead family.

“Show me where you last saw him.” It was late but fuck it. It wasn’t like Eddie had somewhere to be tomorrow. Riot took him to a Life Foundation safe house, which was surprisingly close to Eddie’s apartment. None of them passed the retinal scan, but Riot entered via the air vent and unlocked the door for them.

Eddie padded in and tried not to stare at the state-of-the-art facilities. The interior was nothing like the rundown basement it resembled from the outside. There was a seating area past the entrance, and a store room to the left. Eddie doubted anyone had used those couches since they left the factory. He entered the store room. The fridge door was ajar. Venom spotted the bags of vacuum sealed meat.

**Eddieeeeee...**

Eddie sighed and inspected one of the bags. Luckily, they were labelled. The one he’d picked up was boar. “Yeah go for it.” There was no harm in a snack. Venom hadn’t enjoyed fresh meat in a while and Drake was paying for it. Riot grumbled in the corner. “Hey, you were here first. You didn’t touch ‘em.” Eddie padded over to the wall lined with briefcases. Most of them looked untempered with. Drake had left one open on the bench with a single stack of notes missing. Aside from photographing drug dealers, Eddie had never seen that much cash up close.

The briefcases were protected by fingerprint scanners. Eddie asked Riot to prise them open for him. The good thing about these custom cases rich people fancied was the felt-lined interior. Each element was fitted into dented moulds, making what was missing blatantly obvious. Eddie inspected all the cases. The stack of money had been the only thing Drake took. “He didn’t leave the states,” Eddie said.

 **“Why?”** Riot materialised in the air. The grey symbiote slithered up to him.

“Unless he counted on blowing up the rocket and brought a stack of docs to the launchpad, he’s not getting anywhere as Carlton Drake. The feds are onto him. Plus, he lost his ID.” Eddie closed the case with a dozen counterfeit passports. He made way for the bedroom, leaving a thin trail of black goo leading back to Venom. He shot Riot a weird look when he saw the bed split in half. There were three empty hangers in the closet. Shirt, blazer, and trousers.

Eddie swept through the bathroom next, then the garage. The bundle of bloodied bandages didn’t look good. The man had lost a lot of blood. Without Riot to sustain him, he couldn’t have gotten far. There was a Jeep and a Bentley parked in the garage, next to the rundown Mustang. Eddie took in the Mustang’s blood-stained seats. Drake hadn’t drove. There was no space for a fourth car.

There was something Eddie wasn’t getting. He returned to the bedroom again. The angry gash on the wall had sliced through two-thirds of the room. “When did you return?”

 **“Noon.”** The man Riot occupied looked straight ahead while the silver pile of goo hovered over the bedsheets.

“When did you get here?”

**“After the explosion.”**

“So close to the time now.” Eddie observed the symbiote who’d grasped a corner of the crinkled sheet with his tendrils. “What was Drake doing when you left him?”

**“Asleep.”**

The image was getting clearer. Eddie strung the pieces into a timeline in his head. “He waited for you.”

Riot snapped around at those words. The symbiote hovered over Eddie like a menacing cloud. **“What makes you say that?”**

“If it was me, and I had somewhere so important I wanted to go I’d risk the feds discovering me, I’d leave as soon as possible.”

**“Perhaps he overslept.”**

“Carlton Drake? Oversleep? Not possible man.” Eddie removed himself from under Riot’s shadow. “Look, he’s the sort of freak neighbours use to tune their clock. Wakes at half past five on the dot, arrives at his company by seven. I did my research on him. I was up his ass for weeks.”

**“You were engaged in homosexual behaviour with my host?”**

**“Eddie, was I not your first non-female partner?”** Venom chose that moment to return.

“No—it’s a metaphor, a _metaphor_.” Why was Eddie not surprised that intercourse was what they chose to focus on? “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, even if Drake was delayed by his injuries, or something else slowed him down, did he know you were coming back?”

 **“He should have,”** Riot said. He looked to the floor. The white flares around his eyes deflated. Eddie almost felt bad for the emotionally stunted bastard.

Venom slithered back into Eddie, radiating contentment from a satisfying meal. Eddie scratched the back of his head. “Let’s see if there’s anything outside.” They locked the saferoom. Riot showed them where he found the cardholder. The trail of evidence ended in the middle of the alley. “Hey, isn’t this close to Mrs. Chen’s?” Eddie looked around the corner and saw the familiar convenience store. He walked up to it, coming to a halt at the spot Maria used to sit.

She was a nice girl, that Maria. Sure, she took advantage of him, charging money for papers that were for free, but Eddie let her because she was living on the streets. If she didn’t have her wits about her she’d starve. Eddie stared at the grimy spot next to the rubbish bin. She was dead now. Who was Drake to decide her life didn’t matter?

Eddie ran a hand down his face. Assuming Drake was taken, he would’ve gotten what he deserved. Eddie didn’t want to find him, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.

He turned to Riot. “Okay, we’re gonna go into that store and ask the nice lady if we can access her surveillance system.” He held up both hands to emphasise his next point. “Under no circumstances are you to threaten, harm, or injure her. Remember your promise, alright?”

 **“She is not a bad woman?”** The head of Riot’s host crooked to the side.

“Nope, she’s not.”

**“Fine.”**

Eddie pulled open the glass door smeared with fingerprints. “Hey Mrs. Chen.”

“How are you doing, Eddie?” Mrs. Chen said without looking up from her task.

“We’re, uh, we’re doing good.” Eddie walked up to the counter. Mrs. Chen was tagging sandwiches with a price gun. Eddie saw the red half-price stickers and grabbed four. He paid for the sandwiches and dropped them into his groceries bag, next to the mushy icy poles.

“Is your friend okay?” Mrs. Chen eyed Riot as she handed Eddie his change. “He looks pale.” That was the nice way to put it. Riot’s host looked like he’d swam cross Antarctica naked.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Don’t worry about it. He’s got a parasite problem.”

“ _Oh_.” Mrs. Chen took a step back. “Is that anything like _your_ parasite problem?”

Eddie cleared his throat. “So uh, Mrs. Chen. I promise it’s nothing bad, but I really need a favour.” He gestured to the camera mounted next to the counter, then out the glass façade. “I need to know what happened out there a week ago. Think you can help me out?”

“Is this for your work?”

“Yeah, technically.”

Mrs. Chen gave him a onceover with a single raised eyebrow. For a moment Eddie thought she was going to refuse, but in the end, she turned and unlocked the cupboard beneath the over-counter Baijiu. She bent down, disappearing from Eddie’s view. When she came back up there was a dusty old laptop in her arms. The machine whirled miserably as she opened the surveillance program. “You’re lucky. I delete old footage after a week. It’s almost out of memory.”

“May I?” Eddie asked. She gave him the mouse. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Thanks for taking care of that crook.” Mrs. Chen smiled.

Eddie let out a small laugh. He found the folder from the day after the explosion, then played the timeslot that Riot thought Drake had left. The symbiote was judging from the blood on the bandages. Eddie was sceptical at first, but as he watched, the smile slowly faded from his lips.

An ambulance parked on the top left-hand corner of the screen. It appeared as inconspicuous as any emergency vehicle, but instead of driving off with a patient, the men that’d left didn’t return. The vehicle waited, and waited, and waited, until finally, the men carried a slim male figure out from the alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riot strikes me as the unforgiving type... Don't be shy, comment down below! ;D 
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	4. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

_There never was a we._ Carlton thought as he took in the black patches of mould on the ceiling. The effects of his last injection had worn off. The men from Hydra had yet to give him another dose. These moments of clarity were few and far in between. Carlton supposed he should savour it, but without the debilitating drugs to occupy his thoughts, all he could think about was the brief time he and Riot had been bonded.

He couldn’t believe it took him so long to see this, but there never was a we.

As the saying went, hindsight was twenty-twenty. What would’ve happened if the launch had been successful? Carlton shuddered at the possibilities. In retrospect, it was a good thing Brock stopped him. He wanted to preserve humanity, not drive it toward extinction. If even a fraction of the symbiotes had been like Riot…

Carlton pulled weakly against his restraints. He couldn’t feel his legs. How long has he been here? He had no idea. Time slipped through the cracks of his mind like sand from a broken hourglass. The rusty door creaked open. Men from the previous interrogation sessions returned. They set down a fresh set of tools. One of them lifted a syringe and tapped the plastic cylinder.

In his prolific career Carlton had synthesised many drugs, even used some on occasion, but the hallucinogen they’d been administering into his bloodstream was unlike any he’d seen. It constructed vivid flashbacks, caused him to relive recent events. Carlton was forced to witness those episodes as a bystander. The drug burrowed into the deepest crevice of his mind, excavating memories that Carlton himself had thought lost. That was how he concluded his failure had been a blessing in disguise.

Such a potent drug was bound to cause side effects. His body was wasting away. He spent his days feeling one with the clouds. He’d lost a lot of weight. The restraints that started uncomfortably tight now offered room to move, but he was too weak to escape. Lifting his arms costed strength he could not master, so instead of begging for his life or weeping like a sorry bastard, Carlton continued to stare at the ceiling.

The man with the syringe walked up to him. It occurred to Carlton that no one knew or cared that he was missing. His company probably thought he was dead or on the run. He had no family. Riot had left.

He was going to die here.

The fluid that rushed into his neck burned like the flames that’d scarred him. Carlton blinked, and he was standing in a locked cell. A spitting image of him stood on the other side of the glass. Except they weren’t quite the same. That Carlton Drake was confident, in command. Liquid silver flowed from the pores of his skin to form a symbiote’s head.

_‘There are more of us, millions more. They will follow where I lead.’_

_‘Where we lead.’_

_‘Yes._ We _.’_

 _No. Don’t believe him. He’s lying_. Carlton limped up to the glass and banged on it. The pair continued their conversation without giving him as much as a sideward glance. _Stop. You are dooming Earth, you fool. He never intended to keep his promise._ The Carlton Drake on the other side of the glass turned to face him. The corners of his mouth lifted to form an emotionless grin.

‘This one’s lively.’ He tapped on the keypad built into the side of the cell. Carlton couldn’t see the code from inside, but he’d memorised the sound each number made by heart. The command was ‘open’. The sound of something depressurising caught his attention. Carlton snapped around. Behind him was a glass cylinder. The hatch of the cylinder slid open, and a pile of silver goo glided onto the floor.

 _No. Don’t do this_. All Carlton received was the same reassuring smile the dozens of men and women who’d died in this cell received. A small voice of reason told him that he’d finished reliving his memory. The segments that would follow weren’t real. They were hallucinations, a curated nightmare. Riot’s containment unit broke. He’d never been one of the test subjects.

Carlton told himself that as the silver symbiote crept up his chest. It sank its tendrils into his neck and sucked the remaining life from his veins. His doppelganger laughed and pounded his fist against the keypad. The walls dissolved as if the floodgates had been opened. Gallons upon gallons of bright red liquid poured into the cell. Among the liquid were mutilated figures wearing Life Foundation uniforms. The liquid swept a man with shoulder length hair to his feet. Carlton drew in a sharp breath.

It was Isaac.

The man dug his nails into Carlton’s ankle. ‘Have I not given enough?’ He craned his neck up to look Carlton in the eye. ‘You talk of sacrifice, but I have paid my dues.’ His hands tugged Carlton toward the pool of red. ‘We are all God’s creations. It is time you paid yours.’ Carlton lost his footing. Despite his struggles, Isaac pulled him into the liquid. Thick, slimy fluid flooded his lungs. He was drowning, falling. Isaac dragged him through the pool like an unmovable anchor. He sank deeper and deeper, until he felt nothing at all.

The symbiote on his neck disappeared. A moment later, so did the hands around his ankle. A bead of sweat rolled into Carlton’s eyes. He counted the black patches on the ceiling, getting the same number as last time.

The men from Hydra wanted him to remember, but all Carlton wanted to do was forget. “You are wasting your time,” Carlton said through parched lips. The men that were leaving the room turned to hear what he had to say. He thought about the way liquid metal flowed down his form. About how honoured he’d been when a symbiote travelled half way around the globe because he’d been chosen. About the loath that carried across their bond during the last moments he could call Riot his own.

“I don’t have him… He’s never coming back.”

 

 

\----------

 

 

Riot had never wanted to kill anything more in his life. He hovered a silver tendril over the laptop’s trackpad and rewound the footage, pausing when the group of men carried his host out of the alley. He stared at the pixelated screen. Their faces were indistinguishable, but Riot committed the shape of their bodies to memory. He coiled inside his meat sack, willing his bloodlust to subside.

It was close to dawn. They’d returned to Brock’s apartment after duplicating the footage from that woman’s shop. Brock was asleep in the bedroom while Riot used his laptop. He rewound the footage again, watching the events he’d seen a hundred times unfold. The timestamp on the footage showed 12:57 p.m. Riot shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. If only he hadn’t eaten the last of the bodies.

Riot slammed the laptop shut. He glared at the black rectangle as it refused to cower in his presence. Riot supressed the urge to morph his tendrils into cleavers and chop everything to a fine dust. A familiar slimy feeling crept up his mass. Riot turned. He’d splayed his meat sack on the couch while his symbiote form operated the laptop. This human wasn’t bad, but he’d been in it for four and a half days. He needed a fresh one. A low growl escaped Riot’s throat. He couldn’t pick and choose now. He was bound by his oath.

The decaying flesh was suffocating. Riot withdrew himself entirely from the man. Earth’s atmosphere threatened to smother him, but Riot didn’t return to the spoiled carcass. He wanted to be free of the slimy feeling. It’d been stifling him ever since he lost Drake.

If it was up to Riot, he’d be tearing the city apart searching for those men, but Brock knew these streets better than he did. The human had found a trail within the first day. Riot hadn’t achieved that for an entire week. Humans, being the squishy creatures they were needed to rest every twenty-four hours. Riot slithered up and down the sticky floorboards of Brock’s living room. He came across bread crumbs, rogue dollops of ketchup, and what appeared to be half a chicken strip under the kitchen counter. What a shit hole. Drake’s house had polished stone floors clean enough to eat fro—

Riot stopped pacing. His silver mass flattened on the floorboards. He’d been doing that a lot lately, thinking about Drake. Why did the human occupy his thoughts? Finding his host was one of Riot’s goals, but he didn’t think about his other goals the way he thought about Drake.

Light, rhythmic snores flowed into the space. It was coming from the gap under the door of Brock’s room. Riot stretched himself into a disc and squeezed through. Brock was knocked out on the narrow bed. A corner of the bedsheet was untucked, exposing the yellow and fraying mattress. The man didn’t seem to mind his atrocious surroundings. Judging from the snores, he was having the time of his life.

Annoyance flared inside Riot. How dare he? Riot’s host was missing, and Brock was sleeping like a sedated pig. Riot approached the bed. A black shadow erupted from Brock’s naked back. Venom formed a barrier around his host without waking him. Two thin streams of black goo slid into Brock’s ears to mute their exchange. **“Do not think about it, Riot. We will kill you.”**

Riot smirked. **“Kill me? Bold words for a loser. You are a disgrace, Venom. Both on our home world and here.”** He circled the bed, extending the occasional tendril to taunt the symbiote who tried to protect his host. What a fool. Caring for something was to create a weakness for an otherwise flawless predator. They were symbiotes, designed to hunt, to kill, and to destroy.

 **“We will fight you to the death,”** Venom hissed.

 **“You will die? For this meat sack? Good hosts are hard to find, but not impossible. Let him break. There are millions more.”** Riot gestured outside the window. There they were, streets filled to the brim with defenceless prey. Earth’s population could sustain their species for at least two hundred years.

For a moment, Venom didn’t say anything. Then he smiled. **“That is why your host left.”**

The air in the room was stagnant for a heartbeat. Riot pounced from the foot of the bed. He screeched an inch from Venom’s face. How dare he? The wimp spent a month away from their home world and has already forgotten his place. So what if he was fucking a human with whom he’d achieved perfect symbiosis? Two losers did not make a winner. Riot ignored the sour taste in his mouth. He wasn’t envious. Not at all.

Drowned by the crumpled covers, Brock mumbled something incomprehensible. He stirred but didn’t wake. Venom coiled closer to his host. The black goo caressed Brock’s face then slid deeper into his ears. If Riot had been connected to his meat sack he’d throw up. The two losers looked so content with each other, it was sickening. The bloodlust from watching Drake being taken resurfaced. Riot glared daggers at the duo on the bed. There was nothing he could do. Maiming Brock hindered his own agenda. Riot settled with a vivid mental image of his blade severing Brock’s spinal cord length wise.

He squeezed back out from the gap. His decaying meat sack hadn’t shifted. Riot observed the fly that crawled in and out of the man’s mouth. How the mighty had fallen.

At a loss for what to do, Riot opted to complete his self-authorised tour of Brock’s apartment. He glided into the bathroom, lifting as much of his mass as possible while thin silver tendrils poked around to find the occasional clean tile. Riot avoided the blackened grout. He stopped in front of the vanity, then hovered above the sink in curiosity. He created a mental catalogue of the items Brock used for personal hygiene.

A toothbrush with curly bristles sat in a mug alongside a tube of toothpaste. Behind that was a soggy bar of soap. Across the sink, a dull, single-use razor laid edge down in a dry puddle of foam. The packaging of said foam was a black tube missing its lid. That was it. Riot surveyed the items as if they’d mysteriously duplicate. Where was the face wash? The aftershave? The moisturiser?

 _Human beings are vain by nature. Our ancestors attracted mates by comparing strength and beauty. In some sense, we haven’t evolved at all_. Riot recalled Drake’s words when he’d asked about the creams. His host used that face well. Drake knew when to demonstrate power and when to bat those large, alluring eyes.

Alluring? Riot was caught off guard by the word he used to describe his host. Though he wasn’t wrong. Drake was a fine specimen. His face was smooth and supple while Brock’s likened an oily grapefruit peel. Riot looked up. In the grease-smeared mirror, a hostless symbiote looked back. He hovered in front of the reflective surface, transfixed by the image. He rarely observed himself like this. There was no place for vanity on the brutal planet he used to call home. The symbiote in the mirror had a head woven from streams of liquid silver. Red veins decorated his mass. His head was flatter than Venom’s, and his teeth more jagged.

 _That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen!_ Brock’s voice echoed in his head. Was he ugly? Riot tiled his head to the side. He had no idea what Earthlings considered attractive, but Drake did. Riot recalled a well-manicured hand caressing him. It had travelled up and down one of his tendrils, allowing the fluid to coat his fingers. Riot could not think what his host thought, but he could feel what his host felt. Drake had felt fascination, adoration, joy...all the emotions that Riot could not experience on his own. Riot shivered at the recollection.

Drake would never call him ugly.

The bloodlust he’d tried to squash returned with a vengeance. Liquid silver bubbled as if it’d come to a boil. The men that’d taken his host…Riot was going to rip the flesh from their bones.

A shift in the air caused his form to ripple. Riot tore his gaze from the mirror. He slithered to the edge of the bathroom, where tiles met floorboards and listened. At first there was nothing. Riot flattened himself on the ground, feeling the floor’s vibration. There it was, muffled footsteps. Riot opened his jaw to warn Venom, but a soundwave tore through him at just the wrong frequency. The front door of the apartment flew from its hinges. Six men filtered in, four of which fired a dart at his meat sack on the couch. A violent bolt of electricity flowed from the wire that was connected to the dart. His meat sack jolted, then stopped moving.

“What the hell. This isn’t Brock,” one of the men said. His form looked uncannily familiar. A string that had been coiled too tightly since the night of the explosion snapped. Riot lunged for the man, sliding into his lungs from the filter of his gas mask. The others caught on quickly, firing another soundwave at one of their own, but Riot was already inside. He tore off the man’s mask and used his own fingers to gauge his eyes out.

Riot basked in the satisfaction of hearing the man scream. He drove the fingers in deeper then let the man bleed out on the floor. “Holy shi—” the man furthest into the apartment yelled. The door to the bedroom flung open and he was mauled down by Venom.

Riot jumped out of his first victim. He darted in the shadows, missing all the bullets the men had fired. He phased through the bulletproof vest of the third man, tore apart his organs, then phased out from his back. The man collapsed while Riot took over the fourth. He engulfed his fresh meat sack and bit off the screaming head of the fifth. Venom silenced the last of the squadron.

Adrenalin surged through Riot at the scent of blood. His roar bounced off the aged walls. “Shhhhhh!” Brock hushed. “Keep it down; we don’t want the feds on our ass too. Who are these people?” Venom prodded the body missing its head. Riot’s grin showcased every last one of his razor-sharp teeth. He went through the memory of his current meat sack.

He knew where they took Drake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy the last update of 2018. Merry Christmas everyone! I will see you all in the new year! ;D
> 
> p.s. please read and comment!
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	5. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

Riot ran. His claws dug into the tree trunk, leaving marks the forest had never before seen. Venom followed close behind. They’d been running for an hour, having left the city, swam across the ocean, then darted past the headquarters of the Life Foundation. The circular building once shone like a beacon in the night. Now it was dark. That was where Drake should’ve been. Riot picked up his pace at the thought.

Earth’s atmosphere was toxic to symbiotes. They breathed through their hosts. Riot tasted blood in the back of his meat sack’s throat. He didn’t heal its lungs, nor did he slow down.

He was close. The landscape looked the same to the untrained eye, but Riot had an eidetic memory. He compared the sprawling branches to those inside his meat sack’s brain. This was it. The exact match sent a ripple of excitement coursing through his chest. Riot dug his claws into the dirt and came to a messy halt. He shook the soil from his limbs. Venom skidded to a stop beside him. **“Here?”** Venom asked.

Riot responded by morphing his left claw into a flail. He swung the spiked metal ball high into the air, then brought it down on the ground. The top feet of soil dampened the impact, but as Riot hacked away, chunks of concrete flew in place of dirt. Riot paused when he’d struck a hole ten feet wide. A dented mesh of steel reinforcement was all that separated him from the drop below. Riot shrieked into the darkness. He knew they were in there. He could smell their fear.

“I guess it’s too late for stealth,” Brock said. Riot grinned and shrieked again. The terrifying howl echoed down the launch shaft’s circular walls. He ripped apart the steel mesh and jumped. As he descended, he dug his right claw into the concrete to slow his fall. Riot landed at the bottom of the launch shaft and was greeted by a hailstorm of bullets. He swung the flail into the nearest guard, turning him to pulp. The force of the impact sent gore splattering onto the masks of the surrounding men. Riot let out a furious roar. How dare these cretins make a fool of him? He promised he’d find them. Here he was.

Riot yanked the spiked ball from the wall, bringing down chunks of concrete. The weighted weapon changed form and material. What had once been used to crush morphed into a cleaver that’d split the strongest metal. Riot was not born into leadership; he’d had to fight tooth and nail for it. He often thanked the fools that tried to maim him. Those merciless years transformed him into the predator his enemies feared.

He silenced the men with a swing of his arm. His cleaver severed flesh, bones, and firearm alike. Riot leapt into the air, catching a detached head between his jaw. He bit down and smiled at the familiar crunch. Venom landed behind him. Riot paid him no mind. Venom’s work was done, though Riot wouldn’t oppose it if he sought some fun.

 **“Eddie, are these bad men?”** Venom purred.

“As rotten as they come,” Brock said.

Riot didn’t have to look to see the smile that mirrored his own. Venom might enjoy slaughter less than Riot did, but a fallen foe never failed to amuse him. Symbiotes lusted for blood. They craved the thrill of the hunt, yearned for the sensation of flesh between their teeth, and enemies beneath their claws. If Brock thought a symbiote could be tamed, then he was a bigger fool than Riot took him for.

They tore down the front gate and ran, killing all that crossed their path. Hydra hadn’t expected their prey to find them. Now the roles were reversed. The guards scrambled to power on their sonic weapons. In the confined hallway, there was nowhere to hide. Venom took the brunt of the hit, screeching as the frequency tore through his being. Riot was not so stupid. He retreated inside his meat sack and avoided the blow. The exposed meat sack was sprayed with bullets. Riot allowed it to tumble to the ground. The men then concentrated on Venom. Last mistake they’d ever make.

Riot leapt from his broken vessel, his form a tangible shadow. He phased through the canvas trousers of a man carrying a sonic gun then turned the weapon against his comrades. Riot hadn’t shown himself. He leapt from host to host, causing chaos and confusion. Symbiotes had a remarkable tendency to adapt. How else would they survive reaping planet after planet?

Riot left the dead squadron in the hallway. His current meat sack was a henchman unconcerned with the intricacies outside his scope of work. Riot’s memory ended as he entered the research division. There were only two places Drake could be, here, and the prison. He hadn’t given why they’d taken Drake much thought. It was wasted effort to ponder the reasons of dead men. Though seeing how lost he was, perhaps he should’ve.

The facility was on lockdown. Red light flashed in the hallway that was now pitch black. Did they think they could lose him in the darkness? Symbiotes had excellent night vision. Riot remained sheltered in his vessel, but strengthened his human leg to kick down the first door he saw. The scientists inside whimpered in the corner, huddled like sheep in a thunderstorm. Riot sliced them in half with a swing of his arm. No one escapes. He’d wash the walls with Hydra blood.

Riot repeated the process with the second room, then an idea came to him. When he opened the third room, he didn’t rush into liberating its inhabitants of their heads. He abandoned the perfectly intact henchmen in favour of a sluggish grease pig. The man’s brain contained more information about radio physics than how to maintain a reasonable diet. Riot resisted the urge to vomit. He’d hit jackpot with choosing this random meat sack. The man was a division leader. Riot went through his memories.

It…couldn’t be. Hydra had abducted Drake…because of _him_.

Riot skewered the man’s assistant, silencing the distracting whimpers. He dug deeper into the man’s memories. It was the opposite of what Riot had assumed. Hydra hadn’t planned to take advantage of Drake’s scientific capabilities. His host had been on the hit list of a project named _Insight_. Drake adopted questionable methods, but he’d never support Hydra’s agenda for world domination. Being too intelligent to be spoon-fed propaganda, Hydra had deemed Drake impossible to work with.

Like all promising organisations, Hydra kept an eye on the Life Foundation. The live specimen the first launch retrieved fascinated them. They abducted Drake to locate his symbiote. Hydra wanted to study Riot, duplicate him, then create a division of instantaneous super soldiers.

There were two symbiotes on that launch pad. Compared to Drake, Brock had been a nobody. It’d taken Hydra longer to locate Venom, but since then, Drake had become an expendable source of information.

Riot ploughed through the hallway, rounding a corner then stopping in front of a rusted door. He used his meat sack’s ID to enter. The ceiling was sullied by patches of mould. Blood stained the grout of the tiles into a deep brown. In the centre of the space, on an operating table, laid his host.

His thin, unmoving host.

A tingling sensation crept up Riot’s back. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was an unsheltered newborn. It immobilised him, froze his liquid form solid. A soft gasp sounded behind him. _Brock_.

Riot commanded his meat sack to move. He approached the operating table and raised a tentative hand. He shook Drake’s shoulder, like that evening when his host had fallen asleep at his desk. Drake didn’t respond to the touch. His head tilted lifelessly to the side. Restraints hung loosely around his limbs and his skin had taken on a sickly blue hue. _But they were going to lead a new breed together, a race of higher lifeforms._

The sound of footsteps jolted Riot from his trance. He leapt from his disgusting vessel and fused into the man he sought. Drake was alive, but barely. Riot nourished his wilted organs. He never got a chance to heal Drake after the explosion. Now fresh wounds piled on top of the old.

Venom screeched in the doorway. He blocked the entrance to the room as reinforcements arrived. A black tendril pinned two men to the wall. The rest emptied their clips into Venom. The smaller symbiote stumbled backward but didn’t leave his spot. Riot took in the duo who endured the brunt of the blow. He decided to spare them even after the two-year period expired.

Despite Venom’s effort, Riot wouldn’t get the time he needed. He engulfed Drake’s unconscious form. The body’s poor health drastically weakened him. **“Let’s go.”** Riot didn’t dare linger further. Venom looked back and nodded.

They withdrew from the depths of Hydra. This time Venom took the lead. The runt tried to swat aside as many men as possible, but some slipped through. This batch of reinforcement was equipped with flamethrowers. Riot’s instincts told him to retreat inside his host, but the weak heartbeat coming from inside him warned that if he did, then he’d never see Drake again.

Riot let out a roar of fury. His form blackened under the heat of the flame. The charred, lifeless layer flaked away as Riot took hold of his assailant and ripped the limbs from his body. A row of bullets sank into his back. Riot replaced the damaged cells by shifting healthy ones from his chest. He bit off the guard’s head.

 **“Riot, do not get distracted!”** Venom yelled through the mayhem. Riot caught up to Venom then spat out the guard’s helmet. Non-organic compounds took too long to digest.

They were nearing the launch shaft. Riot turned the half dozen men in their way to a smear on the wall. Hydra was shutting the gates. Venom skirted under the falling panel. The gap was too small for Riot, but he squeezed through by liquefying his body. He dug his claws into the concrete shaft. With every upward movement, the light from the opening neared. Riot hauled himself out of the pit. The grass was soft beneath his claw, and the moist soil a welcomed scent.

The sound of engines thundered through the woods. Riot snuck a peak backward. Four Humvees were close on their tail. The massive wheels carried the men across uneven terrain, but he and Venom were faster. Symbiote form was flexible. Their limbs propelled them through the trees like stones on a slingshot. Riot could lose the men if he wanted, but the thought of leaving them unpunished repulsed him. The next time he landed on a sturdy tree branch, Riot sacrificed previous seconds to cut it from its trunk. He flung the branch into the nearest Humvee. The pointed branch pierced its fuel tank, creating a magnificent explosion.

 **“Riot!”** Venom scolded. Riot barely dodged the bullets that shredded the foliage behind him. Another flare of weakness made him miss a branch. Riot caught himself inches above the forest floor. Venom was right, they needed to move. Drake wouldn’t last much longer.

He and Venom lost the remaining vehicles in the woods. Brock’s apartment was undoubtedly bugged. It was noon when they returned to the Life Foundation safe house. Venom pieced together the couches to form a makeshift bed. He slid inside his host when the deed was done, leaving only his head floating beside Brock’s. Riot carefully laid Drake flat on the couches. Liquid silver flowed down the man’s body, revealing his frail form.

The trio regarded Drake in silence. He’d been stripped entirely, leaving no injury unnoticed. Though Riot stopped after he exposed Drake’s arms, chest, and legs, leaving his groin covered. Something told Riot his host would’ve preferred to cling to his last shred of dignity.

Under the bright downlights of the safehouse, the burned skin popped like patches of fire. Given the circumstances, Riot had healed Drake the best he could. He expended too much energy to extract Drake. He needed to feast, but he’d given his oath to harm only those who deserved it.

“Not gonna lie, he looks ready to kick the bucket. We should call the ambulance,” Brock said.

 **“No.”** Riot had seen the germ-infested buildings humans called a ‘hospital’. There was nothing they could do for his host.

“Look, he needs to face justice for his crimes. Even if he survives I’m gonna have to turn him in.”

Riot growled. It was a low, threatening sound that promised death and dismemberment. Brock knew better than to press further. Given the chance, Riot returned his attention to Drake. He listened to Drake’s irregular heartbeats. It was as if a hand had seized Riot. The fingers tightened with each shallow breath that ghosted past his face. Soon those breaths would slow, then stop altogether.

They’d only been bonded a short time, but he did not need Drake to survive. There were plenty of other humans on Earth, ripe for the reaping. To form attachment was foolish. Drake was but a pretty bauble, a pleasure to inhabit, but far from irreplaceable. He should walk away. Any self-respecting symbiote would walk away.

Those were the words he’d muttered to Venom, words that now rang hollow to his ears. Brock fetched his phone, but Venom stopped him from dialling. The pair was having a mental argument, with Brock mumbling the occasional protest. In the end he settled on observing Riot. They were waiting for him to make a decision.

Was there a decision to make? No. There was only one logical next move, yet Riot couldn’t bring himself to sever the link. It must be the trouble he went through to retrieve Drake. The man was the finest host he’d encountered to date. Drake was special.

Though oddly, the memory that chose to resurface was not one of Drake in his element, commanding his underlings with the poise of a born ruler. It was a string of small, insignificant moments. It was Drake’s patience when he stayed up late, answering Riot’s dumb questions. It was the smile when Drake first touched Riot’s symbiote form, and his wandering hand was not slapped away. It was the voice that told Riot to hide, when the raging inferno hurt Drake just as much as it did him.

Riot had found a feeling that was indescribable then. He’d curled inside his host, watching the world around them burn. Human form was fragile. They depended on tools to best their foes. Riot could crush Drake in a heartbeat, yet as one of the only things that could harm him neared, he felt safety, nested deep inside the body of a man who cared.

Drake wouldn’t watch him burn. Perhaps that was why Riot chose to do the same.

He sacrificed his own form, burning liquid silver as fuel. Riot pumped the energy into his host, mending the cracks on his skin and fighting the infection that’d taken deep roots. Brock drew in a sharp breath. Riot’s body deflated as the seconds ticked by. The surface that once gave off a healthy sheen was now dull and unreflective. In contrast, colour returned to Drake’s cheeks. His muscles regained mass, bearing a closer resemblance to the man Riot recalled than an inanimate skeleton.

When the deed was done, Riot gathered the remainder of his form. He was shocked to see how little was left. He felt weak, even weaker than after the explosion. He retreated inside Drake, who was no longer at death’s door. Symbiotes feared the heat, but Drake was comfortably warm. Riot curled into a small ball. He felt his host’s life force in the form of blood that pumped steadily through his veins. Drake’s presence enveloped him, and the familiar illusion of safety returned.

With Venom standing guard, Riot slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of the new year! Let me know what you guys think! ;D
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	6. Illusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

Carlton supposed it was only fitting that fate denied him death too.

He woke to the sight of a different ceiling, and the room no longer smelled of damp rags. He’d been helped into a clean set of pyjamas. Carlton did a mental recap of recent events; it helped him assess his state of mind. How surprising, he was at least ninety percent sober.

Carlton hadn’t expected to open his eyes again, much less see things take a positive turn. He’d felt the hands of death caressing him like a lost lover. Or had that been something else? He straightened himself. The fleece blanket slid off, and his back protested at the movement. He’d sunk halfway into the crack between two couches. Carlton stretched out his arms gingerly. It pained him to lift his hands above his head, but a limited range of motion was better than no motion at all.

He was resting in the lounge of his safe house. The location was known to few. Between his dead head of security and a certain symbiote, Carlton wasn’t sure which he preferred.

A man cleared his throat. Carlton turned, grunting as a stab of pain shot up his spine. He felt like a ragged doll that had been snagged by a throned bush. The source of the voice had taken the liberty to rearrange his furniture. He sat on a chair near the hallway. Deep wrinkles marred his forehead, while a sandy brown stubble dusted his face and neck. He wore a black tank top, coupled with heavily pilling sweatpants. On his left hand rested a stack of frayed leather bracelets. “Mr. Brock,” Carlton acknowledged.

Brock ran a hand down his face, dragging the skin in a way that looked painful. “You’re up.” He scrutinised Carlton with bloodshot eyes. Brock had a penchant for stating the obvious. Carlton kept the remark to himself. It was best to antagonise people after he was done with them.

“I’m guessing there’s a story you’d like to share, or are you simply here to observe?” Carlton tried to settle into a more dignified position. His legs wouldn’t budge; he was in desperate need of a full body check-up. Though frail and alone as he might be, he hadn’t lost his manners. Carlton kept his back straight and seamlessly covered his legs with the blanket.

“Alright, first thing’s first. Are you going to bolt as soon as I spill?” Brock whistled a low tune and pointed at the door.

Should Carlton be offended by the question? “Of course not. You are in _my_ house.”

“The feds are on to you.”

“A petty annoyance that will be dealt with.”

“Uh—you probably didn’t watch the news. It’s serious this time.”

Carlton sighed. It was no coincidence that men like Brock presented admirable work, yet still got nowhere in life. “The situation is difficult, yes, but my social network is based in the U.S. And where will I run? What will I do after? Care to answer that for me?”

Brock eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not going to fly overseas and vanish?”

“No.” Carlton rubbed his left temple. The throbbing was out of control. “I was on route to headquarters when I was so… _rudely_ abducted.”

“Great. Then my work here is done.” Brock sprung from his seat. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“Brock, what happened?” Carlton reached for the man, grasping nothing but air. He cursed his stiff legs.

“I think it’s best if you hear it from him.”

Him?

The bang of the door shook Carlton from his thoughts. The safe-house was eerily silent. To his right, the fridge hummed through the entrance to the storeroom. Not another soul was present, but what about…

“Riot,” Carlton said. Silver particles secreted from his pores. The unnatural substance banded together to form streams, then fused further to form tendrils. The tendrils twisted and churned, until the head of a symbiote peered at Carlton with milk-white eyes. A deep chill blossomed inside Carlton’s chest. The sensation spread like ink in a vail of iced water.

 **“Do not fear. I will take care of them. But first, I need to feast,”** Riot said as if Carlton had merely woken from a long and terrible dream, and they never parted ways. **“The runt has cleared your stores. Drake, call your men to fill it.”**

Carlton did nothing, said nothing. It was Riot who had rescued him. Why would the symbiote do that? Having been apart for so long, there was nothing left of their bond to salvage. Did Riot have trouble finding another host? That was certainly possible, but it didn’t justify the trouble of tracking him down then extracting him. Riot had sought Brock’s help. For a proud creature like Riot, that must’ve been humiliating.

There was something he’d forgotten. Carlton retraced his memories to their last interaction.

**_I should’ve found a host like Brock._ **

No, before that.

**_I need another rocket._ **

The chill spread until Carlton was encrusted with ice. Riot loomed closer. The symbiote demanded an answer. Carlton opened his mouth. “I can’t give you what you want.”

The white flares around Riot’s eyes constricted. **“Why not?”**

“You’ve fooled me from the start, and I was too blind to see. I won’t give you what you want. Not now, not ever again. Now leave.” Riot hovered above him, and Carlton willed his shaking hands to still. It wouldn’t do to show weakness in front of a symbiote.

**“No. I retrieved you.”**

A surge of indignity quickened Carlton’s heartbeat. “I am not your plaything. If you think you can threaten me into submission, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

**“I could heal you. Once I recover—”**

“ _Leave_.”

Silence. Carlton knew what awaited him. So this would be the end of the infamous Carlton Drake. For twenty years he tried to further humanity’s footstep. Now he was going to die alone in his safe-house, at the hands of an alien he’d thought was his salvation.

Carlton supposed he could try and deceive Riot, but there was no hiding his true intention from a symbiote. He was so, so tired. Perhaps a long slumber wasn’t a bad thing. Carlton closed his eyes. He heaved in the darkness, feeling a cold breeze creep past his face. This was it. Riot was going to kill him.

Carlton waited. The seconds ticked by. His heart jumped dangerously close to his throat. He regretted closing his eyes. With them open, at least he could see what was going on.

Another minute passed. The air was still. Carlton mustered the courage to crack open one of his lids. He took a peek, then opened his eyes altogether. There was no cleaver before him, no salivating tongue. The room looked exactly as it did before, only Riot was gone.

 

 

\----------

 

 

Eddie emptied the dustpan filled with glass shards. He carefully tipped around the rubbish mound, watching the shards fall in between cracks then disappear into the depth of the bin. As it turned out, bust-ins were bad for his crockery. A gust of wind mussed Eddie’s sweat-soaked bangs. It was coming from the broken window. Eddie had duct-taped the fragments after piecing it back together like a puzzle, but sooner or later, he’d have to replace it.

The wind circulated the smell of chicken strips through his apartment. Venom had fixed his mild near-sightedness. There were eleven minutes left on the timer. Considering how tense the past couple of days had been, Eddie thought he deserved a break.

Drake’s rescue happened three days ago, but he and Venom only returned to their apartment this morning. Eddie wasn’t sure if the men from Hydra lingered nearby. They knew the weakness of symbiotes, and without Riot, it was best to stay cautious. He and Venom had rented a bed at a trashy hostel a block away, and after patrolling the area with no signs of Hydra, Eddie had deemed his apartment safe for the time being.

Eddie powered on the DVD player Mrs. Chen’s cousin sold him. He’d gotten the hang of operating the Mandarin menu. After hitting play, Eddie cracked his knuckles and sank into the position of downward dog.

 _“Realise deeply that the present moment is all you ever have,”_ the soothing voice of the DVD drawled. _“Make the now the primary focus of your life.”_ A waft of blood drifted into his nostrils. Venom and Riot had ‘cleaned up’ the bodies before they left for Drake, but it’d still been a pain to scrub the blood from the floorboards. Eddie tuned out the smell and focused on the DVD. _“Any action is better than no action, especially if you have been stuck in an unhappy situation for a long time.”_ He raised his right leg, feeling the stretch, then repeated the process with his left leg. Man, this mind over matter thing sure wasn’t working for him. And the faint sizzle sounded promising. Maybe the chicken strips were ready?

 _“If it is a mistake, at least you learned something. In which case it’s no longer a complete failure.”_ Eddie got up. He padded into the kitchen barefoot then peered into his greasy portable oven. Eddie half expected Venom to hurry him along. Instead, his head was pulled to the side.

**Eddie, we have a visitor.**

_Baaad newwws_ … Eddie thought. He hardly got any visitors since he moved out of the nicer suburbs, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. Eddie hoped it wasn’t the feds or his landlord. He headed for the front door he and Venom rehinged earlier. It swung open with a miserable creak. In the hallway was a man in his early thirties. He wore a crusty brown shirt under a white lab coat. His shoes were caked with mud. The details set off an alarm in Eddie’s head. “Can I help you?” he asked in vain hope.

**“Brock.”**

Eddie closed the door. He walked to the corner of his living room and buried his face into the plasterboard. _“To understand everything is to forgive everything. Quiet the mind and the soul will speak,”_ the DVD carried on.

Eddie groaned. “Fuck. Me.”

 **“Now?”** Venom asked.

“No, V. It’s a metaphor.” Eddie continued to bury his face like an ostrich. The DVD’s meditation music chimed in the backdrop. Maybe if he ignored the problem long enough it’d go away on its own. Right. Like that approach had helped him before.

Eventually Eddie decided to get on with it. He opened the door again. Riot hadn’t budged. Strange…the symbiote hadn’t let himself in. “Yeah, that’s me. Eddie Brock, at your service.” He gave Riot a once over. Riot looked like shit, and it had nothing to do with his host. The symbiote simply looked… _down_. Eddie didn’t know how to describe it. It was like when someone took a dog’s dinner then kicked it into the rain. “You okay there? I take it the conversation didn’t go well?”

**“He wanted me to leave.”**

Eddie scoured his brain for a response. It was empty like his stomach. “You didn’t want to?”

**“…No.”**

“Then why’d you go?”

Riot didn’t answer. Eddie stared at the symbiote. If he were to write down the most unexpected things that could happen today, Riot returning wouldn’t make the first volume. **We should let him in,** Venom said in his head.

Should they? Venom might have a soft spot for his ex-comrade, but Eddie saw the symbiote for the danger he was. Riot was unpredictable, temperamental. He had no regard for the conventions of human society. Though a part of Eddie wondered if the symbiote of his memories would stand there and wait to be invited in. Riot might not be controlling his host’s face, resulting in stoned looking features, but the way he stood said a lot about his state of mind. The man was slouching, his gaze downcast. Eddie was familiar with that look. During the first month Annie left him, he’d been confronted by it every time he shaved.

Eddie sighed and stepped out of the way. “Come on in.” Riot dragged himself into the apartment. He slumped on the couch, his host tumbling to a halt like a stringless puppet. A silver pile of goo spewed onto the floor. It lay there, motionless. Only the occasional twitch indicated it was alive.

The timer chimed. Eddie turned off the oven without taking his eyes off Riot. _This is some weird shit, V. He’s moping like a kicked dog,_ Eddie said in his head.

**Riot is sad.**

_Yes, I have eyes._ Eddie donned a burnt mitten and took out the tray. He doused the chicken strips with ketchup. It was too hot to eat, but he’d been waiting for these things forever. Eddie popped one into his mouth, puffing out steam as he chewed.

**We should help him.**

_Uh-huh, and why would we do that?_

**He wants to sleep with his host. I can relate.**

Eddie choked on his chicken strip. He coughed as ketchup went down the wrong way. A black tendril petted his back. Eddie gulped down half a cup of water. How could he have missed it? He hadn’t gone there because Drake was a coldblooded sociopath, and Riot an alien from outer space. But once he did go there, it made so much sense. Riot’s obsession with Drake, him going to Drake’s rescue despite his superiority complex. He even sacrificed two-thirds of his symbiote form for Drake. Venom had stopped Eddie from calling the cops. He was beginning to see why. _Was that why you waited?_

**Yes, Eddie. I gave up my past life for you, for us. If Riot feels the same, we should help him.**

Eddie rubbed his chin. Venom had a point. They could use Drake as bait. It’d be like honeypot, except honey _dick_. If Riot shared with Drake what he shared with Venom…

Eddie grabbed the tray and sat on the opposite end of the couch. He slid the tray toward Riot. “So, uh…relationships can be difficult.” The puddle of silver goo retracted into a symbiote head. The outer corner of Riot’s eyes drooped, but he did take a strip from the tray. Eddie would call that progress. “What’d you do to piss him off?”

**“I thought he’d be happy to see me. Instead, he was frightened.”**

“Not meaning to judge, but do you treat him like you treat me?”

Riot’s head perked up. **“What do you mean?”**

“Bossy, unthankful, threats of bodily harm, that sort of thing.” Silence followed. Eddied sighed. He thought as much. “First rule of dating: don’t be an asshole. He built you a rocket, disgraced his company, and nearly died for you. That’s got to count for something. A relationship is a two-way street. He used to kiss the ground you walked on. I guess he grew tired of giving.”

 **“Brock, how do I get him to like me again?”** Riot bared his teeth.

“Stop. Whatever it is you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea.” Eddie held up his hands. He didn’t blame Drake for feeling intimidated. Who wouldn’t? “You can’t kill your way out of this one. You have to make him feel safe around you.”

 **“I listen to Eddie and protect him,”** Venom added.

 **“I do protect Drake.”** Riot narrowed his eyes.

 **“But do you listen?”** Venom pressed. Black tendrils slid down Eddie’s shoulders, forming a blanket of warmth. **“Sometimes, it’s not about me. It’s about Eddie. It’s about us.”**

 **“Us,”** Riot said slowly, as if the word tasted foreign on his tongue.

**“Yes, us.”**

While Riot mulled over Venom’s suggestion, Eddie tried to put into words what Venom meant to him. Venom was more than just a symbiote. He was a friend, a companion. Drake reminded Eddie of the type that had thousands of acquaintances, and a social network that sprawled across the seven seas, but short of services he’d pay for, had exactly zero persons to call when his car broke down in the middle of the night. If even Eddie sought friendship, someone like Drake was bound to crave intimacy.

“You could try to get to know him,” Eddie suggested. “Don’t forget, there are to be no threats. You can beat someone into submission, but you can’t beat them into liking you. We should do something about this grump face too, make you more approachable. Smile?” Riot pulled the corners of his mouth up, baring all his fangs. If Eddie was a character out of a horror film, he’d be seconds away from being eaten. “On second thought, don’t smile. People like cute things.”

 **“You like Venom,”** Riot deadpanned.

“Yeah, but not at first!”

 **“Not at first!”** Venom gasped.

“Plus, V is kinda cute.” Eddie played with the black tendril that snaked around his wrist. Riot let out a sound of disgust. “Anyway, this is about as much help as we’ll be. Good luck.”

Riot nodded. **“I will remember this.”** He retreated into his host and marched for the door with renewed vigour. His lab coat flapped in the draft. Eddie stared at the shifting white fabric. It looked oddly familiar.

“By the way,” Eddie called before Riot could shut the door, “have you heard from Hydra, by any chance?” The remnants of that dangerous organisation were still out there. Running wouldn’t do Eddie any good. Even if they relocated, what was to stop Hydra from finding them again? He and Venom had to deal with the root of the problem, sooner or later.

Riot turned. The smile Eddie had told him to put away was mirrored onto his host. **“One day, distant reinforcements will arrive. But how will they have time to hunt you, when they are too busy scraping their colleagues from the wall?”**

The door clicked shut. That was where Eddie had seen that lab coat: in the depths of Hydra. Riot had gone back. Eddie and Venom hadn’t encountered a single Hydra agent since they left, but there’d been hundreds of workers in that base. A drop of cold sweat rolled down Eddie’s chin. He’d compared Riot to Venom, but Riot was nothing like Venom.

What had he gotten Drake into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank goodness for the loser couple, am I right? ;D
> 
> Thoughts? Please comment down below!
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	7. Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

Cleaning up was easier than Carlton thought. Of course, the process was still slow and migraine inducing, but considering he’d been missing for an entire week, things could’ve been much worse.

There were two major problems, the second rocket that’d gone up in flames, and the corpses in his basement. Carlton didn’t need to read the reports to know which one was more pressing. Upon his long overdue return, Carlton set to work at once. There was no escaping the PR nightmare associated with the failed launches, though when it came to the test subjects, it turned out Carlton had the organisation responsible for his near death to thank.

An anonymous party had wiped all evidence of the human trials from his database. It was no small feat. Information could be erased with the click of a button, but only professionals could erase information thoroughly. The Life Foundation database, its backup servers, even Carlton’s personal server, everything was squeaky clean. Carlton had sanitised the test rooms before he left for the launch. Sans Brock’s shaky phone footage, the FBI found nothing. This lack of incriminating evidence was what had bided the Life Foundation time.

It was unfortunate, but convenient that everyone who oversaw the symbiote project died in the launch room. Carlton used this knowledge vacuum to his advantage. He played the part of a distraught scientist, ignorant of the wrongdoings of his company, and kidnapped after he discovered the legitimacy of Brock’s accusation. His tortured demeanour added weight to his story.

Hydra had been fascinated by the alien lifeform. Carlton shared their enthusiasm, so it wasn’t hard to follow their train of thought. The easiest way to hold onto something precious was if it didn’t exist at all. Once Hydra discovered the symbiotes’ location, any exterior meddling were complications they didn’t need. Hydra had wiped the existence of the symbiotes for their own benefit, and in the process, exempted the Life Foundation from any liabilities. If they hadn’t been reduced to masses of drying pulp, Carlton would thank them.

Though despite gaining unexpected help, the legal battle was still far from over. Until the case was resolved, he could no longer access anything registered under his company. Luckily, the FBI hadn’t seen fit to freeze his personal assets. It would be the same drab affair from now on, him trying to pin things on the shareholders, the shareholders trying to pin things on him.

Carlton pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed the manila folder on his lap and leaned back into his wheelchair. He could use the extra reading, but these days he tired easily. Perhaps he should venture into the garden and catch some late afternoon sun. The breeze would refresh his mind. He’d been cooped up indoors for a long time. The last thing he needed was a vitamin D deficiency.

Carlton wheeled himself down the corridor and smiled at the passing nurses. He’d checked himself into a recovery facility. The lawsuits hardly dented his bank account, and there was the option of homecare, but it was better for his image if he wasn’t so secretive. He could use the human contact too. He’d always been careful to maintain his public image. A compassionate personality couldn’t be used as evidence in court, but it did make people think twice before suspecting him.

The wheelchair was a functional part of the aesthetics. Carlton did need it. The muscles on his limbs had deteriorated during his time in captivity. He’d lost significant body mass, but even then, his legs failed to support his weight. Carlton was hobbling down a long road to recovery. Riot had kept him alive, and without him, Carlton must inch down the road at a sluggish pace. Carlton didn’t mind. He was grateful to escape with his life, both from Hydra experiments, and from Riot’s jaw.

Their brief exchange in the safe house had been no conversation at all. It was more like a series of demands met with a series of accusations. Neither had been listening to what the other was saying, let alone understanding it. Really, they were never meant to function as a team.

Carlton parked his wheelchair under a tree. Dappled sunlight illuminated the pale folder on his lap. He opened the files again. Carlton traced his fingers over a newspaper cutting. In the black and white photo, a rocket burned bright in the night sky. He and Riot had been trapped inside it then. He’d told Riot to hide, and Riot caved in the face of fire. Carlton brushed the cutting aside. Beneath it was a file on Brock. It showed everything there was to know about him. A man’s life, summed up in ten A4 pages. He’d achieved perfect symbiosis. Carlton couldn’t.

Carlton had known that achieving symbiosis was like winning the genetic lottery. He should be thankful that he and Riot had at least been compatible. But deep in the crevices of his consciousness, a voice whispered. It seeded doubt into his mind. They grew with each illogical comparison. Even a loser like Brock could do it. Why couldn’t he? He had been compatible with Riot. Was there defect in his code?

He flipped to the end of the file. These blurry surveillance photos were the last remaining evidence of symbiotes on Earth. In the snapshots, Brock was engulfed by a liquid shadow. The resulting creature took the henchmen’s bullets and struck back. Venom had been so infatuated with Brock. Would he have left his host to burn?

Did Riot ever saw him as an equal? Carlton quickly stopped himself from opening that can of worms. There was no point in lingering in the past. What Riot had or hadn’t thought was no longer Carlton’s concern. Earth was a large planet, large enough for them to live out the rest of their days without coming into contact again. And if Riot held onto his ambitions of conquering Earth, the next time they met, they’d be enemies.

 

 

\----------

 

 

Cute. What in oblivion was cute?

Riot grumbled as he sat on the sidewalk, watching the pedestrians hurry along. Humans of all shapes and sizes brushed past him. None stuck around. As a master infiltrator, he could do much better, but what was the point in that? Riot was aware that he smelled feral. He hadn’t bothered to bathe his meat sack. One wouldn’t clean a single-use fork destined for the landfill. He needed a new vessel.

That had been his constant state since he lost Drake, on the hunt for a new vessel. He supposed that little girl with the blonde pigtails fit the human description of cute. Though she didn’t look like a bad person. Riot’s growl vibrated in the back of his throat. A man who’d been walking toward him veered sharp right.

Since he recovered from that mysterious state of pessimism, Riot had maintained his energy levels by following Brock’s advice. It was harmful to fixate on a single human. To care was to foster weakness, but Riot had no choice. He tried to leave Drake be. That got him on Brock’s doorsteps, sorry as a runt. Riot picked himself up and wobbled into an alley. He was getting nowhere with this ‘cute’ business. Time for an afternoon snack. For the most part, he’d been living off rodents, birds, and the occasional bad person. From what he gathered, a bad person was someone who hurt others for personal gain. He had the highest chance of encountering them in dank service lanes.

The boots of Riot’s meat sack scraped against the pavement. He surveyed the area, no luck. The sun was still out, but perhaps he could try the next street. Riot left the way he came from. Though before he could join the stream of pedestrians, a strange noise caught his attention. Riot turned. He’d heard the noise before. Was that what he thought it was? He waited at the mouth of the alley, still as a statue.

_“Meow.”_

Riot padded toward the source of the noise. It came from inside a cardboard box. The flimsy packaging was jammed against the wall. It’d been raining for the past day, and the stains on the box showed. Its content quieted as he neared. Riot opened the flap. Inside laid a small, grey cat.

The sad thing peered up at him, then meowed weakly. The feline’s fur had lost its shine. Save for its swollen belly, saggy skin hung loosely around its frame. Riot hauled the cat up by its front limbs. The feline kicked once, then hung limply in the air. It was a male cat, so not pregnant. Didn’t look like it’d make a tasty snack.

Riot was about to drop the thing when an idea came to him. During his time on the streets, he’d seen humans gather around these creatures, fawning over their slightest movement. A cat was not a species of higher intelligence, but perhaps it could still meet his needs.

A silver tendril snaked around the cat’s stomach, it was filled with worms. Riot gathered himself into a cluster then crossed the void between man and cat. His meat sack tumbled to the ground. Killing the worms was easy, though its nutrient deficiencies meant the cat looked far from attractive. Riot bit the head off his ex-meat sack. Within minutes the man was reduced to a stain on the pavement. Riot pumped nutrients into the cat’s withered muscles, filling its frame and returning lustre to its fur.

 _Meow_. Riot straightened at the noise in his head. He’d been looking for another compatible host for more than a week, yet this furball was the first decent thing to cross his path. Out of curiosity, Riot allowed the cat’s consciousness to remain while he took control over its body. He dashed out the alley in a silver blur.

Riot jumped from building to building. His new vessel was smaller than the ones he was used to, but it didn’t take long to reach his destination. Surrounded by lush foliage was a gated community containing two dozen or so houses. It was early, and the centre was accepting visitors. Riot strolled in behind an elderly couple, then disappeared into the woods. Despite its drawbacks, a smaller stature had its merits too. He no longer attracted attention. Riot followed the trail he’d memorised by heart.

In a corner of the communal garden, a man with bony limbs rested on a wheelchair. He studied the document on his lap and appeared deep in thought. Riot perched at the foot of a tree branch. His host looked the same as he did yesterday. Though his hair had been trimmed, emphasising his frail, scholarly appearance. He wore a white shirt, while his legs were covered with a blanket. Riot let out a breath he had no reason to be holding. Drake’s condition hadn’t worsened, but he hadn’t improved either. If he’d just let Riot back in…

Riot took in the scene with unblinking eyes. There was no one nearby. He could announce his presence if he wished, but what if he was met with the same rejection as last time? A dull ache squeezed the cat’s heart. Perhaps he shouldn’t risk it. Now that he had a decent vessel, he could come up with a more specific plan. For the time being, he was content with knowing his host was safe.

Riot sat and observed. The sun was bright, and the air smelled of roses. It wasn’t a bad way to spend his afternoon. Though the peace didn’t last. A loud clatter shook Riot from his state of contentment, followed by an excited bark. A dog blundered into the garden, dragging its leash behind it. Drake was the only one there, and the dog cozied up to him. Riot glared daggers into the vermin’s back. He watched it lick Drake’s face. Drake, instead of pushing it away, petted its head with affection. The dog’s owner caught up. She apologised and regained control of her disgusting furball. Drake smiled and waved at the vermin as it was dragged away.

Riot watched Drake return to his paper. He recalled the days when that smile had been directed at him. Something incredibly sour erupted in his mouth. He looked down. The cat’s malnourished frame had plumped since he first saw it. Its grey fur reflected a silver sheen. He was in a vessel the humans would consider adorable. He no longer looked the part of a leader, but wasn’t that the point? Maybe there was a middle ground between exposing himself fully and staying hidden.

Riot pushed past the leaves and hopped down from the branch. He placed one paw before another, padding across the garden. Riot stopped a respectful distance away. Absorbed in the paper, Drake hadn’t noticed his approach. He let out a gentle _meow_. The man that’d once been his host looked up. Man and cat stared at each other under the golden afternoon sun. Riot meowed again.

The corners of Drake’s mouth curled up. He set the paper aside and reached down, then forward. It was working. The cat’s heart hammered in its ribcage. Riot padded the rest of the way across. He carefully placed his right paw in Drake’s hand. Drake smiled and rubbed his thumb against the little paw. Riot could no longer contain his urges. He retracted his paw and rubbed his head against the unsuspecting hand. The hand was nudged to the side, but quickly returned to pet the top of Riot’s head. The purr that left the cat’s throat was embarrassing, but he was making progress, hence he shouldn’t complain.

The petting session continued until Drake tired of the position. He hadn’t fully recovered. Drake grasped the wheelchair’s armrests then pushed himself upright with shaky arms. He regarded Riot with that same intoxicating smile. Oh, how Riot had missed it. Only after it’d been returned did Riot realise he never wanted to lose it in the first place. Drake pulled the falling blanket back up. He brushed the soft covers free of creases, then gave his lap a pat.

What did he mean? Was that some sort of special human code? Riot searched his memories and drew blank. Drake looked at him expectantly. Riot wished he’d at least give him a clue.

“Come on, there’s no need to be shy,” Drake said as if the average cat had the capacity to understand. He gave his lap another pat. “Up you come.”

 _Oh_.

Riot could barely contain the flutter in his chest. He leapt, then landed on Drake’s lap with nimble feet. The warmth in the man’s eyes was too much. Riot lowered his gaze. He sniffed Drake as an afterthought. Didn’t cats like to sniff? The man who smelled like coffee and safety gave him another dozen pets. When Riot showed no inclination to leave, Drake retrieved his papers. Riot nudged the annoying thing away with his head, making sure he had Drake’s full attention. His host chuckled. Riot felt the vibrations from his chest.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you? Behave now.” Drake slowly lifted the pages back up again. Afraid he’d get kicked off, Riot allowed the pages to sit upright behind him. Drake pretended to read for a while. Riot could tell he was pretending because his gaze kept shifting back to him. Riot kept perfectly still.

“Good boy.” The smile on Drake’s face deepened. He planted a featherlight kiss on Riot’s forehead. The man returned to reading for real, leaving the cat’s heart pounding in its chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with an update! Let me know what you guys think! ;D
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	8. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

The brown paper bag sat innocently on his doorstep. It was one of those biodegradable bags from a fancy organics shop. The opening was folded onto itself, sealing its contents. On top of the flap neatly tucked away was a yellow post-it note.

-

_Eat something green before the both of you turn into literal potatoes._

_Love,_

_Annie & Dan_

-

Score. Free groceries. Eddie scooped up the bag and unlocked his front door. On the sill of the window he hadn’t left open perched a grey cat. Eddie sighed and ignored it. These days Riot treated his apartment like a highway truck stop. Eddie didn’t mind. If Riot was here, then it meant he wasn’t elsewhere. As far as unwanted house guests went, it could be worse. Riot didn’t touch anything and stayed quiet unless he had a question. The symbiote leader wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Though Eddie wished he’d learn their ways sooner. It wasn’t easy to live under the unblinking stare of an axe murderer.

Eddie placed the bag on his kitchen counter then unfolded the flap. Its insides were crowded with romaine lettuce, a punnet of cherry tomatoes, a cucumber, two avocados, a bag of quinoa, a jar of dressing, and a packet of marinated shrimps. Pretty self-explanatory.

 **Dinner?** Venom asked in his head. Eddie’s stomach rumbled.

 _Yup_.

Eddie lined the counter with the groceries then crumpled the paper bag. He tossed the entire bag of quinoa into his only pot. He was going to cook everything then leave it in the fridge. Chopping up the ingredients was easy. They came pre-washed. Annie and Dan had spared no expense. A tender feeling rose in Eddie’s chest when he thought of the redhead. Eddie was glad she found someone. Dan looked after her. Eddie supposed he should resent Dan, or at least feel a shred of jealousy. Dan was whom Annie replaced him with. But to be fair, Eddie had brought that upon himself, plus Dan was such a nice guy, smart in the brains, but simple at heart. He made it very difficult to hate him.

Eddie shuddered as fluid emerged from the skin on his back. Venom rested his head on Eddie’s right shoulder. The black tendrils made space between his skin and his shirt. They began from between his shoulder blades and wrapped around his torso. **You have us.** Venom said.

 _I know_. Eddie smiled and leaned into the embrace. He looked over his other shoulder as an afterthought. The cat stared at him with a pair of stark amber eyes. The orbs glowed in the shadows, its black pupil a narrow slit. The cat hadn’t budged since he entered a good ten minutes ago.

Eddie slowly turned his head back. Riot was trying, but expecting him to consider the psychological comfort of anyone but Drake was asking for too much. Eddie warmed up his red frying pan. He dumped the packet of shrimps in, marinade and all. The mixture teetered on the brink of overflowing. Eddie watched it sizzle.

_Say V, how long have you known Riot?_

**We have no concept of time. Our home world was dark, and the day passed when hunger called. But as a rough estimate in Earth time, fifty-seven years.**

_What?_ Eddie tried his best to appear casual. The subject of their gossip was right behind them. _Fifty-seven years? That’s a half a lifetime plus change. You must know him pretty well._

**Perhaps. Riot does not talk, only command.**

_No casual conversations, like hey, how are you, I like how you bit that guy’s head off?_

**No.**

That does sound like Riot. Eddie gave the shrimps an occasional stir. _Has he always been in command? I mean, he must’ve started somewhere._ Eddie tried to picture Riot as a greenhorn foot soldier and couldn’t. It was like he was born with a six pack then hopped into battle, cleavers swinging.

**Riot began a spawn, like all of us. We are a genderless race and reproduce asexually. Riot was spawn from another leader, who wanted a righthand. But ours was a hungry planet. There had been a period, where we had depleted our feeding ground and couldn’t find the next. Even the commanders starved. Riot was young, easy pickings. The leader turned on him.**

_His own parent?_ Eddie straightened. _What did he do? Did someone help him out?_

 **None did. The leader was strong, and we did not risk ourselves for future competition. The leader swallowed him, yet Riot was stubborn. They coiled in the dust for days. In the end, it was Riot who won.** **He emerged from the shrivelled remains of his attacker and took over his clan. Those who did not accept the new leadership died swiftly.**

Eddie stared at the tiles beyond the stove. He had little memory of his own parents. They died when he was young, but during the time they’d been alive, they had done everything they could for him.

_You said he was a spawn. How’d he win?_

**Riot was a born hunter.**

Perhaps that explained Riot’s violent tendencies. Eddie wasn’t overwhelmed with comparison material, but a person’s childhood shaped them as an adult. Would it be such a far stretch to assume symbiotes were the same? Eddie tried to imagine what he’d be like if his mom or dad practiced cannibalism. It didn’t make a pretty picture. In that sense, Riot was doing well. He might still be a prickly asshole, but he was opening up. He was trying to salvage his relationship with Drake, often coming to Eddie for advice. And after that bizarre first conversation, Eddie might even consider them friends.

 **Eddie.** Venom’s voice derailed his train of thought.

_Yeah?_

**The shrimps are burning.**

“Shit!” Eddie looked down in time to catch a whiff of burned protein. He lifted the pan and turned off the gas.  The marinade had dried up, but the shrimps themselves were okay. Eddie shrugged. He’d eaten worse and Venom wasn’t picky. Eddie carefully scraped the brown swirls off the pan and tossed the crispy residue. He drained the quinoa then dumped that on top of the shrimps. His salad bowl was sea of vibrant colours. Eddie added the finishing touch of half a jar of dressing then gave the mixture a stir. He popped a spoonful into his mouth. _Delicious_. Eddie texted Annie a photo of his handiwork then scooped out a bowl. He was about to dig in when he remembered he had a guest.

“Hey, you want some?” Eddie turned around, coming face-to-face with a cat-less windowsill.

 

 

\----------

 

 

Riot landed on a tasselled cushion, the silver of his paw a splash of moonlight atop the emerald velvet. Unlike Brock’s apartment, this window had been left open for him. He hopped off the armchair and crept across the floorboards, disturbing nothing but dust. Riot searched the house. Drake’s new quarters was single storied, flat save for the bump of rugs. It was easier to operate the wheeled machine this way.

His host was sitting in front of his desk, same as always. Riot placed one paw before another. Fleshy padding muted his footsteps. He stopped at the foot of the desk. Drake hadn’t looked up from his work. Riot meowed softly. He didn’t want to startle his recovering host.

Drake peered over the edge of the desk, the corners of his mouth curving at the sight of Riot. “Good evening,” Drake said. Riot leapt with his hind legs, landing on the corner of the walnut surface. A black laptop sat in the centre of the desk, surrounded by notes and directly in front of Drake. Riot growled at the unthinking machine. It was occupying prime real-estate. He padded across the desk in plain sight of his host, purposefully paused to tilt his head to the side, then walked all over the keyboard.

The machine made a choir of frantic beeps. Drake gasped, quickly rescuing his work from under Riot’s paws. He checked the data again before closing his laptop, then turned to Riot with narrowed eyes. Riot looked back at his host. He’d practiced in front of the mirror. The light was dying, and the room was dark. His eyes had adjusted to the dim surroundings, enlarging his pupils. He gazed at Drake with large, watery orbs.

Drake never stood a chance. He sighed and picked Riot up, placing him on his lap. “You’re a handful and a half,” he said as he stroked Riot’s back. Riot flopped over, rubbing his head against Drake’s legs and exposing his silvery white belly. Nimble fingers threaded through the soft fur. Riot purred shamelessly. It was alright. Drake didn’t know who he was, and the man gave magnificent belly rubs.

The longer Riot spent with Drake, the more he came to appreciate his wit. His host was a vulnerable creature even in his prime, yet he could best opponents twice his size without throwing a single punch. Riot peered at the laptop through half closed lids. Amazing, the things words on a page could do. Speech was a made-up construct. It was a series of sounds strung together to create meaning, and writing, a translation of the sounds onto the written page. Unlike Riot and so many of his brethren, his host could make those words sing.

Symbiotes were physically strong, so they depended on fists and blades. Humans were physically weak, but instead of rectifying that evolution took them down a different path. They fabricated tools and services and currency. Humans had mastered their environment. Symbiotes hadn’t. Was that why they could afford to pick and choose their next home, while symbiotes fled from one planet to the next? Perhaps they weren’t so worthless after all, these puny little humans with their puny little words.

Drake’s fingers stilled as Riot stopped purring. “You’ve been here a lot. Where’s your owner?” Drake asked. When he received no response, he placed a hand under each of Riot’s front legs. He slowly lifted Riot until his face was at eyelevel. Riot’s hindlegs remained planted on his lap. “You are too clean to be a stray.”

 _Questions_ , Riot mused. They were bound to rise with his frequent visits. An inexperienced infiltrator might panic, but Riot far from an amateur. He looked into Drake’s eyes with a steady heartbeat, then blinked twice. Drake smiled. Riot was rewarded with a kiss on the forehead. The heartbeat that’d been mellow as spring rain thickened into a downpour. Drake hadn’t held onto his paws tightly, and Riot retracted them with ease. He pressed them against Drake’s collarbone and leaned in. Riot licked the man’s chin and nose. His tongue flicked across Drake’s lips. Riot froze as a jolt of electricity rippled through him.

The downpour escalated into a thunderstorm. Riot stared at the pale lips for a fraction of a second. He’d seen Venom do this to Brock. He never understood the appeal of it before, but the lightning bolt had struck him blind, then left a dizzying flutter. He must make up his mind quickly. Drake maintained immaculate personal hygiene. Soon he’d push him away. Could Riot risk another…?

Riot had always exercised restraint over his desires. He found them easy to control. Though perhaps it was because he’d never been confronted by true temptation. Riot assaulted those lips. He licked across them left, right, and centre. _It’s alright_ , Riot told himself. _I am a cat. Cats are allowed to lick._

True to his prediction, Drake pulled him away, but not before he’d gotten a couple of good licks. Drake gave him a light tap on the nose. “Bad boy,” his host scolded, but there was no heat behind those words. Riot utilised his furball meat sack to its full potential. He let out a long, sad meow, then looked down and drooped his ears. Drake’s fingers returned to scratch his chin.

Riot purred with the satisfaction of a job well done. Drake gave him a few more pets, then backed the electric wheelchair away from the desk. Riot remained seated on his lap as Drake rolled them down the corridor. The gears in the wheelchair hissed under the twilight. They came to a stop before the kitchen counter. Drake opened the cupboard and retrieved a metal cylinder. Riot was forced to leave his prized position to let Drake work. From the floor, he heard the cling of ceramics, then the scrape of silverware against metal. When Drake lowered his hand again, it was with a bowl of suspicious substance.

“Well, dig in,” Drake said as Riot looked up at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You can’t keep eating my food; it’s too salty for you.” Riot gave the bowl an unimpressed sniff. Was this mush supposed to be for him? He meowed at Drake. It smelled feral. He wanted what he had last night, roasted lamb with mint sauce and a side of nutty salad. He still preferred raw brains, but he was getting used to human food. They came in dainty chinaware, all nutritious and pretty. Or maybe that was just Drake.

Drake gave the bowl a tap. “Don’t you like it? I got it especially for you.” The corner of his eyes dropped. The smiled that Riot adored was gone. Drake inspected the metal packaging, a slight crease between his brows. Riot imagined his sickly host, alone at home, thinking about him when he wasn’t there. He’d have ordered the cylinder in, or perhaps he’d gone down to the shops himself, risking the ire of humans who’d recognise him.

Riot sniffed the bowl again. It wouldn’t poison him, few things did. He licked the substance tentatively. It tasted similar to what it smelled like. The substance gave way to Riot’s tongue. It was unnatural, this pulped mass, but Riot ate it all. He licked the bowl clean then looked up at Drake again. That dazzling smile returned. Drake rubbed the spot between his ears. “Good boy,” he praised.

Riot purred, but quickly hopped on the counter and nudged the tap on. He needed to wash that taste out of his mouth. Riot gulped on the fresh stream and let the remnants fall into the sink. He concentrated on his task, missing the mischievous air that tainted his favourite smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writer was very hungry when she wrote this... 
> 
> Thoughts? Let me hear them! ;D
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	9. Fondness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

**fondness**  
/ˈfɒn(d)nəs/  
_noun_  
affection or liking for someone or something.  
_synonyms_ : affection, love, warmth, devotion

-

Riot traced his paw over the yellowing words. The silver of his fur shined coldly against the page. Fondness, what a baffling concept. Why did humans develop these emotions that did not benefit them? Fear, he understood; hatred, he understood; desire, he understood; but fondness, love, devotion… Humans would go great lengths for the creatures they loved, even if the subject did not return their affection. Riot searched up the synonym.

-

 **love**  
/lʌv/  
_noun_  
1.  
an intense feeling of deep affection.  
_synonyms:_  tenderness, intimacy, endearment

2.  
a great interest and pleasure in something.  
_synonyms:_  liking, partiality, weakness

-

Weakness. So they acknowledge the risk of the emotion but could not help their irrational minds. Riot tore his gaze away from the thick little book that explained things. Drake was dressed in a white coat. He sat before a table lined by glass tubes and dishes. Riot’s host leaned forward. He added a drop of blue solution to a beaker then gave the contents a stir.

Drake had been slowly easing back into his work. He hadn’t returned to his company, for all the staff had gone. The site was still on lockdown. He had to purchase new equipment from overseas then set them up in his study. Drake looked different when he concentrated. Dr. Carlton Drake of the Life Foundation was calm, reasoned, and calculative. Ambitious yet methodical, sans a subpar physique he was the ideal host. But when he was with Riot, his demeanour changed. He catered to Riot’s every whim, despite receiving nothing in return. Even when Riot stepped out of line, deliberately pushing to test his limits, he’d never mistreat Riot. The harshest punishment Riot received had been a tap on the nose. And the way Drake smiled at him. It was difficult to describe, like a tangible ray of sunshine.

Admittedly, all the kindness had been meant for the cat. The last meeting Riot had with Drake in his true form remained fresh in his mind, but if Riot was to rewind and begin from the very start, things had been the same. Their bond changed with the burning rocket…or perhaps it’d changed before that.

With no race to save, at least not for another two years, and food brought before his lips, Riot had time to think. After all, self-reflection was the defining trait of higher intelligence. He’d asked Brock why he liked Venom, and vice-versa. After filtering out useless content such as ‘he fed me chocolate’, Riot distilled their response down to two key points. He cared for me. He wanted me to be happy.

It was deceptively simple, yet it solved the core of Riot’s puzzle. The segment had consisted of nothing but blank pieces, pattern-less like a white void. Drake cared for him. He wanted Riot to be happy, but at one point, Riot did not wish the same. Those desires had been reflected so clearly in both cases, but when Riot had been a symbiote, his identity added a layer of complication. On top of the simple fondness there had been uncertainty, unease, and an imbalance of power.

As a cat, the complications were gone. Their relationship was pared down to the fundamentals, to fondness that asked for nothing in return. Riot knew he should be content with what he had, but contentment was not in a symbiote’s nature. Riot didn’t want to hide forever. He wanted to touch Drake with his true form and tell him how much he’d missed him. He wanted to feel Drake’s naked adoration not because his meat sack was cute, but because he was Riot. He wanted to become one with his host again.

Riot sprung from his spot on the stool. He padded along the windowsill then leapt onto Drake’s desk. “Careful,” Drake said. Riot halted his footsteps. His host distributed the mixture into six flat dishes then sealed them away, carefully labelling each lid. When he was done, Drake removed his glasses and turned to Riot.

“So, when did you plan to tell me?”

Riot froze. He regained his composure quickly. Despite his racing heart, Riot tilted his head to the side. He gazed at Drake with wide eyes. He was picked up by his host, whose fingers lingered when they brushed past Riot’s chest. The man gave him a head rub. It was as affectionate and gentle as any evening they’d spent by each other’s side, though his words chilled Riot like frost on a frigid lake.

“Why are you nervous, Riot?”

There was nowhere else to hide. A stream of silver bled from the cat’s backside. They merged to form a symbiote head. **“How did you know?”** Riot’s voice filled the room in a low tremble.

“You stare too much.” Despite being confronted by a symbiote he wished to never see again, Drake appeared to be at ease. “And the fur was a dead giveaway. You couldn’t have chosen another colour? The resemblance was uncanny.” Riot said nothing, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t think of anything clever. Drake held his smile for another heartbeat, then the spurious warmth vanished. Drake regarded Riot with cold eyes. “What do you want?”

 **“I want you to be my host.”** The words fled his mouth. It was too late, Riot couldn’t take them back.

Drake only sighed and looked away. He regarded the equipment on his desk. They were a complete set, but they didn’t hold a candle to the setup in his lab. “The SFPD has frozen everything but my personal assets. The Life Foundation is an empty shell. I can’t build you another rocket.”

 **“I have made a promise. I will not retrieve my brethren.”** Riot answered Drake’s question, but an inkling gnawed at him, like he hadn’t said what he wanted. Riot cursed his inability to connect his mouth with his brain. Words had never been his strong suit, and before this day, he’d never encountered a problem cleavers couldn’t resolve.

“For two years.” The syllables stung. Drake had spoken with Brock, but when, and how much did he know? Drake took in Riot’s silence. When he spoke again, the malice was subdued. “Our partnership had been productive. I understand why you wish to continue it, but during my entrapment I’ve had nothing but time to reflect. It was a mistake to promise you something that defeated the purpose of human preservation. It would be a lengthy, and costly battle to rebuild my company. With no end in sight, even if I had the means to try again…Riot,” Drake shook his head, “I don’t want to. I know my reasons must seem strange to you, slaughtering bystanders, experimenting on strangers, all the while claiming to be saving the people I’m butchering, but I truly do not wish to see humanity doomed. Whether it’s due to their own short-sightedness, or an alien fleet that seeks to convert Earth into their next hunting ground.”

There was so much that Riot wanted to say, but the conflicting thoughts fought each other, refusing to be strung into sentences. The thoughts filled his head like an expanding balloon, and the more muddled they became, the less Riot knew how to clear them. **“I won’t let that hap—”** Riot began, but he cut himself short, because wasn’t that what he wanted?

He wanted Earth to become another hunting ground. He enjoyed watching the humans flee for their lives, only to be gutted when they thought they’d escaped. A prey’s dying scream was his favourite symphony. He was the shadow of death that loomed over the runts too weak to defend themselves. Earth’s population could feed them for centuries to come. His race could finally expand and conquer like they were destined to do.

“On top of everything, I don’t know what Hydra has done to me.” Drake inspected his limbs. They were nothing more than skin and bones. “I no longer practice as a physician, but I know what irreversible tissue damage looks like. I may never walk again… It’s in everyone’s best interest that you find another host.”

The pain in Drake’s eyes punctured the balloon. Riot was stunned by the blow. His chest shrunk, squeezing his heart until it could no longer beat. Riot had been torn to shreds by rival symbiotes, but he’d never experienced anything so painful. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he couldn’t do nothing.

Riot lunged forward and slammed his mouth against Drake’s. It was how humans showed affection, but in his state of mind, he miscalculated the distance. Drake let out a pained grunt. Riot’s teeth had crushed his lips. He didn’t struggle like Riot had feared, nor did he return the gesture. The man sat frozen in place, with a stiff spine and raised brows. Riot studied the caramel of Drake’s iris. Neither of them had closed their eyes.

A second passed, then two, then five. Riot slowly retreated into the cat. Drake remained glued to his seat. He touched his reddened lips. “Riot…what was that?”

For the first time since he’d reached maturity, Riot was struck blind by a bout of panic. The hairs on the cat’s back stood. He bolted from the room, leaving Drake dumbfounded in his wake.

 

 

\----------

 

 

By now, Carlton was used to the whirling of the wheelchair. He rolled across the room, passing machinery that’d been lowered to suit his height. He opened the incubator and freed the top four trays. The samples in the Petri dishes had grown.

Carlton retrieved them one by one, carefully examining them under the microscope. It was difficult to work in an unsterile environment. Despite rigorous therapy, his legs were showing no signs of improvement. He’d planned to be home by now. Perhaps he should convert his study into a proper lab.

Carlton concentrated on recording his findings. Despite the obstacles, research was proving to be the least of his worries. Science made sense, symbiotes didn’t.

Two days had passed since the unorthodox kiss— if what had passed could be counted as a kiss. Carlton hadn’t seen Riot since. He had a lung full of questions, but no one to ask. Carlton hadn’t overlooked the possibility that Riot simply could’ve left. There was nothing keeping him from doing so. Carlton had been hoping Riot would return, but as the CEO of an ex-Fortune 500 company, he’d long learned not to dwell on wishful thinking. Life was full of disappointments, best to avoid the ones he could see coming.

Carlton returned the samples to their slots in the incubator, then rolled the wheelchair out of his study. He’d worked over lunchtime again. As per his instructions, his caretaker had left his meal in the steamer. With a bit of reaching, Carlton gathered the plates and laid them on the table. On the menu was lamb kofta, with saffron rice and green beans. Aside from its bustling location and loose equipment restrictions, Carlton had chosen this rehab centre for its excellent chefs. The spices hinted at his stomach that it’d missed another meal, though Carlton didn’t dig in right away.

Lamb, that was Riot’s favourite. Carlton himself was not a huge fan of meat. He ate a balanced diet, and that was that, but aside from raw brain tissue, Riot adored rare lamb. During the time they’d spent together, when lamb was served he’d always meow for seconds. Even when Carlton mischievously fed him cat food, he’d steal a piece or two from Carlton’s plate. Something about the meat’s gamy, and earthy taste captivated him. It was akin to Venom with chocolate.

Carlton recalled his conversation with the duo. It had been Brock who called. Carlton hadn’t been surprised that Brock could reach him, the man was a decent journalist, what had surprised him was the information Brock decided to share.

Riot was attracted to him, not only in the way a symbiote was attracted to a suitable host, but in the way a eukaryote was attracted to a mate. Carlton had dismissed the claim at first. Not a single interaction between him and Riot had been remotely romantic. To convince him, Brock provided a detailed account of how Riot had not only fought to retrieve him, but sacrificed his symbiote form to heal him. He then told Carlton about Riot’s behaviour after they parted ways, going as far as equating Riot’s intention with Venom’s.

It was then that Carlton realised Brock had been screwing with Venom. Admittedly, he was impressed. Carlton was a known eccentric, but not even he could claim he’d fucked an alien lifeform.

Brock and Venom’s relationship had opened the doors to a realm he hadn’t known existed. If the subject in question was the symbiote leader that’d infiltrated his company, Carlton would’ve perished the thought. But as things stood, the Riot in Brock’s description did sound like he could be attracted to Carlton. What for, Carlton hadn’t the faintest clue, but Riot had kissed him. Twice. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Carlton pushed a kofta around with his fork. A soft meow sounded behind him. Carlton’s breath hitched. He gave himself a moment to focus then turned. On the armchair, before a window that had been left open, perched a forlorn looking cat.

“No other cat insists on announcing their presence like you do,” Carton said. Riot’s ears were drooped, like Carlton was the one guilty of neglect. Carlton sighed and held out his free hand with his palms up. He bent his index and middle finger toward himself. Riot perked up. He hopped off the armchair and padded toward Carlton, then leapt onto his lap. The dash of silver squeezed between the gap between the table top and Carlton’s legs. Riot dug with his paws until he emerged from the shadows and was sandwiched between Carlton and his food.

Out of habit, Carlton scratched the back of Riot’s neck. He’d noticed the cat’s abnormal behaviour right away. As a symbiote, Riot had limited experience with all things native to Earth. With that in mind, his observational skills had been excellent, though that didn’t make up for the wild fluctuations in his performance.

To put it simply, cats didn’t read.

It didn’t take Carlton long to figure out who was behind the mask. It had been the details that gave Riot away. Carlton hated being interrupted, so Riot stayed quiet when he worked. Carlton had a habit of reading late into the night, so Riot nudged the papers away when the moon hung high in the sky. Fish was one of the few meats Carlton enjoyed, so Riot never touched the seafood on his plate. Something feathery tickled Carlton’s heart.

Riot remembered.

Carlton waited, but the purring he’d gotten used to was absent. The cat on his lap was stiff. He stood on his hindlegs, with his little paws pressed against Carlton’s chest. Riot hadn’t said a word since he entered. “What’s wrong?” Carlton asked out of habit. Riot pretended not to understand. It struck Carlton then. Riot thought he preferred the cat. He was trying to return things to the way they were.

The tickle had evolved into something indescribable. Carlton sank his fork into the kofta, then brought it to Riot’s mouth. Riot looked to Carlton, who gave him an encouraging smile. The cat’s mouth opened wider than it should’ve, engulfing the entire ball of lamb. Carlton fetched a clean fork for himself, and bite by bite, they shared the dish. Riot perched on his lap as Carlton scooped up the last bit of rice, then a silver tendril snaked into his line of sight.

“No,” Carlton said.

**“I won’t fuse with you unless you ask, I promise.”**

The thin tendril waved back and forth. Carlton pondered the promise. Riot wouldn’t lie, he was too proud. Carlton slowly reached out and touched the tendril with the tip of his finger. The silver merged with his skin, forming a temporary link. A flood of warmth transferred across the link, nourishing his body. It didn’t last long. When the connection broke, Carlton felt his withered legs tingle.

Riot curled into a soft ball, though his coat lacked its usual lustre. As Carlton threaded his fingers through the dull fur, he recalled Brock’s words. _It might not be love, but he does care for you_.

Carlton asked himself whether that was good enough.

It was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the disappearance, my dear readers. Rest assured I have not forgotten about this fic! There will be 1-2 more chapters left after this. Stay tuned for a fluffy finale. ;D
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	10. Brace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

“Is the harness comfortable, Dr. Drake?”

Carton bucked against the layered Velcro. Since his time in captivity, he has found it difficult to be near any form of straps, let alone being constrained by them, but he nodded nonetheless. A sharp hiss came from the window sill, followed by a low, rumbling growl. His therapist jumped at the sound. “Behave now,” Carlton said to the grey cat. He turned to the startled man. “I’m sorry, he doesn’t like strangers.”

His therapist hummed in understanding. He studied Riot’s silvery coat, but to Carlton’s relief, didn’t approach Riot. “That’s a beautiful cat. What breed it is?”

Carlton smiled. “He’s one of a kind.”

They exchanged pleasantries as his therapist worked. Limb by limb, Carlton was strapped into the device behind him. Boasting some of the most advanced rehabilitation technology available to the public, the device was sleek in appearance, and practical in function. Carlton leaned against the backboard as his left thigh and calf was hugged by segments of plastic, then his right.

Over the past month, Riot had worked tirelessly to repair his shrivelled limbs. Since his condition was monitored by the facility, Carlton had requested that Riot progress slowly. To Carlton’s surprise, Riot did as he was asked. His therapist had been baffled, but overjoyed at Carlton’s sudden improvement. They redrafted his recovery schedule, and by week three, they’d progressed until Carlton could take a few wobbly steps on his own. The device was meant to train his muscles and reacquaint them with the idea of continuous movement.

“Should we proceed, Dr. Drake?” his therapist asked. As a respected professional in the medical field, the man had followed Carlton’s work for years. Despite recent events, it had been intuitive for his therapist to see Carlton not only as a patient, but also a fellow practitioner.

“Of course.” Carlton clutched the railing and tried not to depend on the harness that suspended him. He’d regained some upper body strength since the incident, but it wasn’t until Riot returned that his legs began to improve. With all his might, Carlton lifted his left leg. The machine whirred. His leg raised to an unnecessary height, then slumped down a foot before its previous spot. The treadmill beneath him rolled at a snail’s pace. Carlton repeated the process with his right leg, lifting it high into the air then letting go. The state-of-the-art device could monitor his movement, adjusting his steps to appear more graceful, but Carlton hadn’t wanted that. His goal was to return to his normal life, a life where he didn’t need help to walk.

Left…right…left…right… Carlton ploughed through the torturous cycle. His therapist recorded his progress and yelled encouragements over the noise. The repetitive motion exhausted his body, but bored his mind. Carlton looked up to find Riot watching him. The symbiote didn’t need to say anything, his eyes did the talking. Riot had been against the idea of Carlton surrendering to a machine. In his mind, strength came from within. Power gained from elsewhere was power that didn’t stay.

A bead of sweat rolled down Carlton’s jawline. His clenched his teeth and kept moving. He had nothing to prove, but he quickened his pace. His therapist eyed him with worry. Carlton didn’t acknowledge it. The man allowed the session to run the full thirty minutes, then promptly stopped.

“Dr. Drake, I think that’s enough for today. You’ve worked very hard,” the man said as he unstrapped Carlton. He helped Carlton back into his wheelchair. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

“No, Eric, that’s very kind of you, but I’d like to shower first. Anne will take over from here.” Carlton picked up his phone. He watched his therapist pack then close the door behind him. Carlton locked his phone without dialling his caretaker.

As soon as the door closed, the growl returned. Though instead of meaning to frighten, the growl sounded more like an afterthought. Carlton turned to the cat that padded toward him. With a ripple of silver, it landed on his lap. “He is not a snack,” Carlton said as he rubbed the top of Riot’s head. The miffed cat softened a little.

 **“This is pointless. I can heal you in an instant.”** Riot flopped over and exposed his silvery white belly.

Carlton was careful to hide his smile. “But there would be no lesson learned.”

**“We have suffered defeat. We learned from that.”**

Carlton’s fingers were warm after exercise. He played with a strand of fur. The sun dappled onto it, the heat and dancing shadows lively like tendrils of fire. Carlton rolled his wheelchair to the package he had delivered. The room was empty save for him and Riot. With a bit of reaching, he unboxed the package. Inside lay the bottom half of an exoskeleton. He ran his hand across the Stark Industries logo, taking in the hard sheen of metal. It was a beautiful work of art. Like many, when Carlton first laid eyes on it, his mind beelined to uses in the military, and yet they were not on the battlefield, but in a centre for healing.

“No. We learn through process.” Carlton lifted the exoskeleton. It weighed less than it looked. He unlocked the side hatches and slid his legs into it.

 **“I don’t understand,”** Riot said. **“Why depend on a machine when you have other options?”**

Human psychology…moral boundaries…those were complicated subjects. “Have you ever needed something?” Carlton thought about it, then added, “outside the scope of survival.”

**“No.”**

“Never?”

**“There is one goal, and that is to live. My clan was one of the largest. Food was scarce, so we hunted as a pack. Perhaps I depended on them, but I ate them if they defied me, or if I no longer needed them.”**

“In other words, you were biding your time until you could survive on your own.”

**“Yes.”**

“What about hosts? Is symbiosis a process of becoming independent?” Riot was not so quick to answer this time. Carlton asked Riot to close the back latches for him. He stood and took a few steps forward. The exoskeleton was silent, but strengthened his legs with such finesse, its presence dissolved into the backdrop. Carlton marvelled at the technology that could kill with such ease but doesn’t. “We borrow what we can, to become stronger in our own ways.”

Carlton was no stranger to being dependent. His father was alive, but he might as well be dead following the divorce. His mother died when he was twelve. He had depended on a lot of people in his life. First relatives, then friends, then mentors, then business associates. Relationships were a form of investment. He began with nothing. He ended as the CEO of a fortune 500 company.

 **“I will not leave you, even if I no longer need a vessel,”** Riot said.

That was sweet of him, but Carlton didn’t believe in charity. “Why not?”

Riot took even longer to answer. Carlton didn’t push him. He circled the room with a hand on the wall. Compared to those paralysed from the waist down, Carlton’s legs could still function. He quickly mastered walking in the exoskeleton. His fingers trailed along the wall, then dropped to his side as he walked to the centre of the room. The cat followed. Carlton doubled back and forth. His steps were slow but steady.

 **“I…like you,”** Riot said.

Carlton paused. He turned to the cat. “What for?”

**“I feel safe around you.”**

It was as if Riot had left a part of himself inside Carlton. The remnants began as a single cell which multiplied into an embryo, and then a towering beast. The beast thrashed inside his chest, levelling the walls he’d stacked brick by brick. Carlton wanted to stroke Riot’s fur, so he bent forward, but the stiff exoskeleton stopped him from kneeling. His hand hovered in the air. Carlton sighed and straightened himself, though before he could retract his hand, a silver tendril met him halfway. The liquid fused with his palm, building a temporary link. What words failed to say, the bond conveyed.

Symbiote form was cold to the touch, but their bond roused a heated sensation. Carlton savoured the warmth. He was drawn to Riot, and before he could react, more silver entered his line of sight. The tendrils converged mid-air then morphed into a shapeless mass on his chest. Yearning flooded his senses. Carlton ran his hand through the liquid, coating his fingers with it. He recalled the feeling of being swathed by a cocoon of liquid. He’d been unafraid; even as he walked with none but his own shadow, he was not alone.

 **“I’m sorry.”** A string of silver snaked passed his collarbone, coming to a stop on his neck. The bruise had long vanished, leaving a smooth expanse of skin. The tendril circled his throat, then pressed against his pulse. Carlton could breathe without fault, but he felt Riot’s presence, closer than ever before. Carlton’s eyes watered, troubled by emotions that were not his own.

“Don’t do it again.” Carlton blinked the wetness away. He gestured for Riot to return to the cat. Riot obeyed, but he didn’t sever their link. Carlton continued to exercise with a silvery trail tagged to his chest. An idea came to him. He adjusted the exoskeleton’s setting, lowering its support to a minimum. At once, his legs began to buckle. He took another step forward, pausing to stabilise himself.

 **“Drake?”** Riot hurried to his side. He’d been a step behind until he saw Carlton wobble.

“Don’t get too close. I might step on you,” Carlton said. Riot ignored his warning. The link unfurled, rippling in the air like a silver blanket. It moved as Carlton moved, remaining two steps before him. “I can’t see,” Carlton teased. The blanket shrunk a little, but otherwise didn’t budge.

“See that column?” Carlton pointed toward the far end of the room. “I want you to stand over there.” Carlton chuckled as Riot looked up at him. He’d never seen a cat so confused. Its chubby cheeks scrunched together as its eyes narrowed. Slowly, Riot padded away. He circled the column Carlton chose then meowed weakly.

“Now retract the link,” Carlton said. A long, sad meow travelled across the room. Riot circled the spot he’d been bound to. Man and cat stared at each other. It was Riot who caved. The tip of the tendril retracted from Carlton’s chest, taking the blanket with it. The cat peered at Carlton across the vast stretch of space. Carlton readied himself. “Stay put, I’m coming over.”

Carlton took a single step forward. It was as if his bottom half had turned to lead. His muscles were sore, and his legs shook under the strain of carrying weight they could barely support. Riot sprung forward, but Carlton stopped him. This was his fight. Carlton inhaled deeply, then took another step.

Riot was far, unreachable, almost. A sense of déjà vu struck Carlton. He’d been here before, more than a decade ago, as a young man with nothing but his mind and the things he wanted to accomplish. He’d started from the very bottom, worked as an assistant who did more housekeeping than research. He was promoted to an analyst next. For fifteen years he climbed the corporate leader, becoming group leader, then division leader, then head scientist, then the CEO of his own company.

The silver cat was but a blur in the distance. Carlton held out his arms for balance. Restlessness gnawed at his heart. He was moving too slowly, he wanted to be at his destination.

The thought troubled him. Carlton had begun as a patient man. With no respectable background and no connections in the industry, he had no choice but to be patient. He earned those promotions by thinking critically, and he climbed the ladder by outperforming his peers. When had he gotten used to instant results?

Carlton stared at the cat. He traced his fingers over its image. In the seconds that followed, the world dissolved away. Carlton was left alone with his goal, and the obstacle he must overcome. He’d missed this, the journey that took him from start to finish. Perhaps he had other ways to bypass the obstacle. Perhaps through other means, he could arrive at his destination sooner, but what would be the point in that? Nothing would be learned. Nothing would be gained. Sometimes there were no shortcuts.

The sole of his shoes rubbed against the cushioned floor. It took tremendous effort to lift his legs, but Carlton was in no rush. He had time, with Riot by his side and the sun high in the sky. One foot after another, he inched forward. Riot began pacing when he was a third of the way across. Carlton gave him a reassuring nod. It seemed to calm him. Riot craned his neck toward Carlton, the light in his eyes strengthened Carlton’s quivering legs.

The cat transformed from a blur into an object into a figure that was within reach. Riot meowed when they were an arm’s length apart. Was it pride reflected in those amber eyes? Sweat dampened Carlton’s shirt. His legs were so sore they no longer felt like his own. Carlton was miserable, but at the same time, a feeling of accomplishment coursed through his body. It soothed his aching limbs, lifting the jitter in his chest.

Carlton looked to the clock. They’d gone pass their allocated time slot. Another patient would soon arrive. They’d better get a move on. Carlton took a step toward his wheelchair. It turned out to be the final straw. His legs gave. He tipped backward, and his view spun from Riot’s face to the white plaster ceiling.

It all happened too quickly for Carlton to register. When his brain caught up, he realised he’d felt no pain. He was laying on a mat of liquid. A dozen streams emerged from the mat, forming a symbiote head that hovered above Carlton’s face. Riot’s default expression was one of displeasure, but for some reason, Carlton could tell he was extra miffed.

 **“Why did you send me away?”** Riot asked.

“Motivation, of course.” The silver streams caged him in, covering Carlton from head to toe. A tendril caressed his cheek. Another slid down the collar of his shirt, and another up his arm from the opening of his sleeve. The sensation of symbiote mass gliding against naked skin shouldn’t feel natural, and yet it was. He’d lost a part of himself when he parted with Riot. Only after it was returned did he notice.

 **“What if you fell?”** Riot’s voice rumbled in the confines of the silver cocoon.

“I knew you’d catch me.” Carlton circled his arms around the hovering mass. Gravity closed the gap. Carlton didn’t have to ask. Symbiote mass seeped through his clothes and through his skin. It flowed into him like liquid fire, igniting him from the inside out.

Carlton’s limbs were filled with strength. This was what had attracted him to Riot: _symbiosis_. Riot was not a parasite, and their bond didn’t favour one party over the other. Carlton was more than a vessel. He was a host. He not only contained life but sustained it. He was Riot’s skin, and Riot, his sword and armour. Together they were stronger than they could ever be alone.

The morphing tendrils lifted him upright. Carlton looked to Riot. The hovering head remained where it was, close, but not close enough. Carlton cupped the head with his hands and leaned in. His lips touched cold liquid, then sharp teeth. A pointed tongue glided into his mouth. In Riot’s milky white eyes, he saw himself reflected. They stood under the sun, wrapped in each other’s embrace, complete at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one more chapter after this one. Let me know your thoughts! ;D *throws fluff into the air like confetti*
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	11. Symbiosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by:  
> [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/pseuds/Missaness/)

The neighbourhood was peppered with boutiques, and its footpaths lined with bluestone. Eddie strolled down the pristine street, passing tree after tree. Bare branches formed criss-crossing shadows across his face. Eddie hugged his jacket closer to his chest. He rarely visited this part of town. Even during the highlight of his career, he doubted he could afford a house here.

The black scarf on his neck coiled closer to his skin, then unfolded itself, covering the last segment of exposed flesh. Without the wind billowing down the back of his sweatshirt, his body heat stayed. Eddie rubbed his chin against the scarf, or more precisely, the symbiote that was inside.

The yarn had been knitted loosely, but Venom filled the holes. A warm, fuzzy feeling radiated across their link, lifting some of the uncertainty from his chest. Eddie arrived at his destination ten minutes before schedule, but the person who’d asked to see him was already there.

Drake wore a nude coat a couple of shades lighter than his skin. Inside the coat was a grey turtleneck. The seat paired with the table had been removed, making room for his electronic wheelchair. A dark grey blanket draped across his lap. For wool, or cashmere or mohair or whatever rich people used these days, the blanket reflected an odd sheen. The man was reading on his tablet, enhancing his educated vibe. As hesitant as Eddie was to admit, Drake looked good. It was hard to imagine a month ago, he had a foot inside death’s door.

“Mr. Brock,” Drake greeted as Eddie sat opposite him.

“Dr. Drake,” Eddie returned. He rubbed his hands together, more out of habit than necessity. The heater beside their table radiated a toasty warmth, chasing away the autumn chill. A waiter came and took their order. Eddie ordered a hot chocolate while Drake chose a long black, much to the chagrin of his grey blanket. Eddie shifted uncomfortably, so did his scarf. “So uh, why are we here?”

Drake locked his tablet, setting it down on his side of the table. He bought forth a tiny smile, the kind that bankers used when they watched some poor sod sign their life’s saving away. “I scheduled our meeting today to thank you for your timely intervention, on both accounts.”

“Both?”

“During my rescue, and its aftermath.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie scratched the back of his head. He willed his legs to stop bouncing. Aside from their first interview which quickly turned sour, he’d never had a calm conversation with the man. Their meetings ranged from shouting comic-book level dialogue, to brawling like mad gorillas on a launchpad. Eddie wasn’t sure how to handle a docile Carlton Drake. An awkward silence draped over them. It lasted until the waiter appeared with their drinks.

Drake took a measured sip of his coffee, dark like his soul. “I thank you for coming today. Believe it or not, my gratitude is sincere. However, there is one more favour I must ask of you.”

“That doesn’t sound dodgy at all.”

Drake placed his coffee down on the soccer and leaned in. “It’s not. Mr. Brock, I’m no stranger to your philosophy. After everything that’d happened, my old ways are no longer. I now strive to be what all man should: an upstanding citizen of society.”

“And my dad’s a symbiote,” Eddie scoffed.

Drake’s tiny smile never faltered. “If you listen to what I have to say, I promise it will be worth your time.” He retrieved his cardholder from his coat, the one with the burned corner, and plucked a piece of paper from the deepest pocket. It was a folded cheque.

Eddie’s heart skipped at the value. Curiosity got the best of him. Judging from the old press coverage, Drake had indeed turned a new leaf, but was that just a façade? It’d be easier to keep an eye on things from the inside. “Alright, let’s hear you out.”

Drake nodded. He wasted no time diving into the matter. “I want to hire you as my research assistant.”

“What?” Eddie nearly choked on his hot chocolate. “In case you didn’t know, my degree’s on journalism.”

“Riot and Venom are now the last symbiotes on Earth; that alone qualifies you. I’m not asking for much, only that you make bi-weekly visits to provide data on Venom’s health, diet, and social behaviour. No human has attempted symbiosis before us, and as a responsible host, I’d like to provide the best possible condition for my symbiote,” Drake explained.

Eddie felt bad instantly. Dan had taken him to another health check-up after the explosion, but that was to make sure _he_ was alright. Compared to Drake, he hadn’t double checked if Venom was healthy. Sure, Venom would tell him if something was wrong, but what if Venom was also in the dark? Humans often didn’t get diagnosed until it was too late. Considering everything that’d happened, Drake’s offer seemed reasonable.

“Alright,” Eddie agreed after a pause. His gaze shifted to the grey blanket. “Speaking of Riot…how are things between you too?” Eddie supposed it was none of his business but fuck it, he was too invested. The development between these two was like a badly rated soap-opera, cringy to watch, but oh so entertaining. Riot hadn’t been to his apartment for days, there was bound to be news.

A faint blush crept up Drake’s face. He looked to the side and didn’t say anything. Eddie leaned onto the table. A blushing Drake? This was too good. “In addition to the data, I’d also like a report on your experience with symbiote-host relationships.” When Drake finally spoke, he glossed over Eddie’s question. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that you are…experienced in the matter,” Drake added.

“Huh?” It took Eddie a while to decipher Drake’s meaning. “ _Oh—_ ” Eddie looked to Riot, then back to Drake. He jumped out of his seat. “You sly dog you! So that’s where you’ve been. Gotta admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, give me five!” Eddie extended his right hand. The blanket vibrated happily. A silver tendril emerged from the corner of the blanket and gave Eddie’s palm a hard tap. Drake rolled his eyes, but his stiff lips suggested he was hiding a smile.

 

 

\----------

 

 

 _I didn’t know you were friends with Brock_ , Carlton said on their way home.

 **He’s alright,** Riot grumbled in his head.

Carlton smiled. That was as close as Riot would get to liking someone. He rolled his wheelchair through the thin crowd. He was in no hurry to return, but he didn’t plan on making any detours. Since he’d founded the Life Foundation, he had been in a constant rush. It was refreshing to not be needed anywhere, though Carlton must admit a slow-paced life wasn’t meant for him. He’d begun a fresh series experiments back home, cancer research, and he was excited to see the results.

The nagging fear in his heart, that he’d never live to see humanity’s greatest problem resolved was still there, but with the addition of Riot in his life, Carlton had found it easier to control. He had once been so young, so sure, so full of hope. The Carlton Drake of yesterday was gone, but perhaps if he had been here today, he’d tell Carlton that everything was alright. There was no need to be restless.

Symbiotes had never been the solution he sought. It was a short-term fix, meant to mask the issue so it’d be left until it was too late. Carlton had promised himself that he would take no more shortcuts.

He had been bearing the flames of hope for too long. It scorched his skin, wilted his lungs, and blinded his eyes. He had been afraid that he wouldn’t make it to the end of the road, but perhaps he was never meant to. Perhaps for all this time he was meant to let the flame go.

The beauty of tomorrow lay in its uncertainty. All he could do was walk down the path he chose and know that with each foot he placed before him, he was one step closer. He’d walk down the path until his feet could carry him no more, then pass the flame down the next, and the next would carry that flame until they did the same. They would advance as a race. One day, one of them would make it. One day, one of them would take that flame and accomplish something truly spectacular. One day, they’d look back and be amazed at how far they’d come.

The Life Foundation had become a shadow of its former self, but Carlton was good at building from zero. Carlton had thought he’d forgotten all about those early days, but in truth, he remembered them all with crystal clarity. Start-ups had so much hope. He’d missed it, the giddy, unadulterated joy of discovery.

He still had his wits about him; that had been all he needed to succeed before. Compared to the Carlton Drake of yesterday, he now also had the help of Riot. From the moment he said yes to symbiosis he knew he’d never again be alone. Carlton didn’t know if Riot loved him. Love was a human emotion. Whether symbiotes were capable, or even understood love was up for debate, but Carlton didn’t mind. He possessed something of far greater value.

He and Riot shared a bond. They were one and the same. Riot offered companionship. He’d sooner perish than leave Carlton defenceless. In a world filled with fleeting affections, lies, and betrayal, companionship was the most beautiful thing Carlton could imagine.

Love faded, their bond did not.

They might not be compatible like Brock and Venom, but that was okay. Riot had chosen him, and in return, he had chosen Riot. They existed as one, not because biology dictated so, but because they appreciated and treasured each other’s company.

To Carlton, their symbiosis was perfect.

 

 

 

_Perfect Symbiosis_

_-Fin-_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, the grand finale. Hopefully, I've taken the pair on an enjoyable ride. Thank you to everyone who has stayed until the end. Until next time. ;D
> 
> Tumblr: [ivivao3.tumblr.com](https://ivivao3.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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